Exploding and Crushing
by McGemcity
Summary: His head was exploding. That was the only explanation Timothy McGee could come up with for the sheer magnitude of pain he was feeling, as he opened his eyes, waking up to the intense sensation.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, so I'm not too sure about the rating, but as far as I can tell there is nothing above a K here, but let me know if I'm wrong! Comments and constructive criticism are very welcome, feel free to tell me "it sucked" but I would like to know why so I can improve it, and do better next time. I did proof read it a couple of times so spelling errors should be minimal, but let me know if you spot any and I'll try to fix it. The next chapter should be up sooner rather than later but feel free to get on at me if you want to continue reading and I haven't got my lazy brain in gear. Thanks.**

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way shape or form own the characters or plotlines of NCIS, no matter how much I wish I did. I am simply borrowing them for my own entertainment and will return them to their rightful owners once I am done letting my imagination run wild. Think of it like a library service.**

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><p>His head was exploding. That was the only explanation Timothy McGee could come up with for the sheer magnitude of pain he was feeling, as he opened his eyes, waking up to the intense sensation. It was lancing through his skull, encompassing his entire head with what felt like a crushing force. But that wasn't right... his head was exploding, how could it be being crushed at the same time? He couldn't follow that train of thought, it was beyond him to try and make sense of such a complicated idea, and so he abandoned it, moved on to something else.<p>

He tried to determine what he had done to incur such a wrathful vengeance from his body. He had no memory of consuming any alcohol, let alone enough to cause this type of reaction, and he was pretty sure he had gone home alone, and not gone out with either Tony or Abby, which vetoed the hangover explanation. He tried to remember if he had hit his head, or if someone (again Tony came to mind) had hit it for him. He considered this for a moment, he was pretty sure Gibbs and Tony had head slapped him yesterday, at least once, but that had never had that kind of impact before. Maybe his body had simply decided it had, had enough. Whatever the explanation, McGee ceased to care as the pain once again came to the forefront of his mind as it steadily increased in intensity.

How to get the pain to go away? He focused on that idea instead, maybe then he could focus on the crushing vs. exploding phenomenon, and the cause of it. Pills. His mind supplied. They have pills for this, medicine. He was pleased, now he had a plan, a goal; he needed to find the pills to make the pain go away. He lay still for moment thinking, where did he keep the pills? Cupboard, kitchen cupboard, the solution came again. It occurred to him momentarily that his thought process was being slowed drastically; shouldn't he have worked that out sooner? But his frustration was short lived and surpassed by his feeling of relief; he was closer to his goal, the removal of the pain, which was still pounding through his head. Maybe then he would be able to think clearly.

He continued to lie on the bed for a minute, before it occurred to him he should move to reach the pills. They were in a different room, and so he would have to get up. Again he thought that this course of action should have become clear much sooner, but the pain continued to lap at his thought process, depleting his capability to think. As a particularly intense wave of pain invaded his mind he forgot how long it was taking him to process, and simply narrowed his focus onto simple thoughts that he could hold onto through the onslaught he was experiencing. Get up, get pills, get rid of the pain.

He began with a new sense of purpose, and slowly sat up in the bed. Until this point he had remained still, entirely too focused on the pain and his plan to remove it, to concentrate on the task of forcing his muscles to move. Now that he was moving again, he also became aware of two more sensations, both of which were unpleasant.

The first was that he felt uncomfortably wet and sticky. The tangled sheets surrounding him were soaked, and they, along with his baggy t-shirt and boxers clung to his skin. Sweat, his fogged mind deduced. He had obviously been sweating, tossing and turning in his sleep, unconsciously aware of his body's impending rebellion against him.

The second was a wave of nausea, which hit him hard and fast as he shifted into an upright position. He breathed deeply, inhaling large amounts of air in an attempt to dispel the feeling, leaning back against the headboard until his stomach stopped clenching so uncomfortably. Once he had pushed it down to a tolerable level he once again began to get out of the bed, extricating himself from the damp sheets, before placing his feet on the floor and standing.

Being fully vertical, the nausea returned at a much higher, less bearable level, and it took a large amount of will power not to vomit over his bedroom carpet. He stood still for a moment and closed his eyes, blocking out what little light there was in the room, and once again breathed deeply in an attempt to calm his stomach. Once he no longer felt like vomiting was an immediate threat, merely a very likely future event, he attempted walking again, only to be hit with a wave of dizziness, that brought the nausea back near its previous level. Despite this he continued on, vainly hoping that the pills he was so desperate to reach would provide some measure of relief from the attack.

Eventually, he made it to the kitchen, steadying himself against the counter as he began to sway. He searched through the cupboard clumsily, the pain reaching a crescendo in his skull, and hampering his movement. He could have wept with relief when he finally found the box he was searching for, putting it down on the counter and retrieving two of the sought after pills.

He thought about dry swallowing them simply to get it over with, but reasoned a sip of water might help with the near desperate need his body had to empty his stomach, or at least push back the feeling, providing him with a short reprieve. He shuffled a short distance so that he was standing leaning over the metal sink, and reached into the cupboard above to retrieve a glass. With shaking hands he placed it under the tap, wincing as the noise of the rush of water caused the throbbing to increase. He shut off the water, and gathered the pills off of the counter, placing them in his mouth and taking a tentative sip of water to wash them down.

The effect was instantaneous, as the cool water hit his stomach he felt it clench tightly, and was assailed by the nausea once again, more forceful and demanding than ever before. He staggered out of the kitchen and made it to the bathroom off the corridor, falling to his knees on the cold hard tiles, before he gave into his body's demands and vomited into the toilet, expelling the water and pills he had just swallowed. His hands gripped the edge of the seat, holding on tightly as his muscles spasmed and shook from the exertion. He felt the sweat forming on his forehead and back, mixing with the residual dampness from earlier.

He continued to use the porcelain seat for support as he leaned over the bowl, anticipating the continuation of the heaving. However, after that first round his body seemed to have finally decided he deserved a break, and the nausea receded once again. Once he was sure it was not going to make an immediate return, he allowed his body to sag, pushing away from the foul smell, and gingerly reaching up to flush the chain. The water was much louder here than in the kitchen, and his closer proximity meant that the stabbing sensation the noise caused was much more powerful than before, and elicited a groan from his lips. He considered trying to make the journey back to his room, and calling someone that could help, however his expulsion of the pills meant the pain was increasing rather than dulling, and his already much abused head refused to supply him with the name he needed, while his shaking muscles gave out from under him, making the journey impossible, even if he could have remembered who it was he wanted. He gave up then, and allowed his head to sink down to the floor, his flushed cheek resting against the cool tile.

He hadn't realised how hot he was until he made contact with the blissful coldness. Once he acknowledged how warm he was he lost all willpower to even contemplate making the attempt to regain a vertical position. He drew his knees up to his chest before he allowed himself to go boneless on the floor, the tiles cooling the raging furnace that was his skin. The last vague thought that managed to surface in his protesting brain was that he needed to get up soon for a reason he couldn't quite recall. But the fever he was running as well as the pain still running rampant conspired against him, and he ceased his futile attempts to recall the need for waking and gratefully sank into oblivion.

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><p><strong>So like I said the next chapter should be up soon. Don't worry someone will eventually come to poor Timmy's rescue. I think this is going to be a McNozzo fic – more likely friendship than slash, but it could go either way, let me know if you have a preference and I'll try to take that into account<strong>.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I have decided to keep this a friendship fic between Tim and Tony but for everyone who voted for slash don't worry I definitely plan on writing something like that in the near future! I'm not sure how long this is going to be, I thought maybe two chapters at most when I began, but it became clear as I was writing that it was going to be much longer. I hope people decide to stick with it, and enjoy the next chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way shape or form own the characters or plotlines of NCIS, no matter how much I wish I did. I am simply borrowing them for my own entertainment and will return them to their rightful owners once I am done letting my imagination run wild. Think of it like a library service.**

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><p>It was lighter the next time Tim came round, as a slim trickle of early morning sunlight had wormed its way through the small bathroom window. Normally this wouldn't have bothered him, but as his brain seemed to be continuing to make a bid for freedom, mostly by bursting out through his skull, even the small early morning glow felt like his eyes were burning, adding to the raging fire of agony in his head. His skin was still unnaturally warm. He supposed his whole condition could be described using fire, burning agony and searing heat.<p>

He groaned and turned his head into the pillow of his arms, attempting to block his eyes from the brightness, which was made even more painful as it reflected off the bright white of the tiles. When his eyes were once again in shade he allowed some of the renewed tension to drain from his sore muscles, slowly becoming more aware of the rest of his body. As he began to take stock of the rest of his limbs, he noticed that the burning, although it seemed to flow all over his skin, was more intense and focused in some areas than others. McGee was tempted to simply close his eyes again and allow sleep to make him forget this new discovery, after all he argued, his whole body was in agony, what did it matter if some of it was a slightly different level to the rest? However agents did not get onto Gibbs' team without a deep rooted need to solve mysteries, and his logical mind told him that there _had_ to be some explanation for the increased pain level. Valiantly, he allowed himself to push his pounding headache into the background, and discover where it was the pain was focused. Quickly he became aware of an intense stinging sensation across most of his back, as well as similar, but at less significant levels on his arms and legs.

He could have left it there, but now he had acknowledged his natural curiosity it continued to badger him for the explanation. With another small groan, which echoed in the small bathroom, he gingerly lifted his head, and used his arms to shakily push his torso off of the floor, until he was sitting, leaning heavily on his left arm for support. Breathing deeply he quelled the nausea, which until now had scarcely been present, but was currently returning with vengeance. Still taking deep gasps of air, he lifted his right arm, attempting to use the light to see what the source of the minor pains was. Squinting to try and lessen the amount of light he let burn into his eyes, he studied the skin. He was shocked to see it marred by dozens of small red scratches. He glanced down to see similar marks on his legs, and was sure his back must be in the same state, if not worse. In an attempt to confirm his suspicion he twisted the upper half of his body and was about to lift the base of his MIT shirt so he could at least glimpse the skin above his hip, when small drops of colour on the floor came to his attention.

He abandoned his nauseating movement, and instead studied these spots with some confusion. His curiosity was not focused on identifying the liquid, years of working at NCIS meant he knew blood when he saw it, and instead his puzzlement was directed at the possible source of it. From its position the blood was in it must have come from him while he was lying down, and when accompanied with the pain in his back he supposed that that must be the cause. He felt his arm tremble more violently, and let himself crumple back to the tiled floor when it was no longer able to support him. He returned his cheek to its previous position against the refreshingly cool surface, while he tried to recall how he had come to be injured in such a way. He tried to think back to the previous day's events, in more detail than he had attempted earlier. Then he had been trying to think of an instance where he had drunk alcohol, or been hit over the head, and had not delved as deeply as he should into the rest of the day, something he was sure Gibbs would have head slapped him for if this had been an actual case. He laughed bitterly to himself as he thought that in his current state of agony a head slap may just kill him. He was sure that was the first time Ducky would have written "hand force trauma" on an autopsy report.

As he forced his tortured brain to think through his day, the memory suddenly came to him, as he recalled the case they had been called out on.

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><p><em><strong>The previous day<strong>_

_The rocky ridge path where the marine's body lay was narrow and littered with loose jagged rubble. The man was perched precariously close to the edge, and although it was not a sheer drop, it was steep, and looked rather unstable, the footsteps of the team causing many of the stones to shift and roll down the side with a small clatter._

_McGee was very obviously avoiding the edge as much as possible, a fact which gave Tony no end of entertainment. He made it a point to notice a "significant pile of rocks" or "a scuff that could be a footprint" that meant Tim had to shift dangerously near to the ridge to document the "evidence" with the camera. Tony and Ziva shared glances of amusement every time Tim glanced over the edge, the height making him lightheaded. When the entertainment from this ceased to be enough, Tony reverted to a favourite pastime of tormenting his probie with variations on his name, the favourites of the day being "McQueasy" and "McPhobia". To many of these Tim merely responded by rolling his eyes, while on other occasions he playfully threatened Tony with vengeance courtesy of his computer skills. Tony's mock indignation, and horror that the famous car key app would be given to Ziva, allowing her quick and easy access to his "baby" whenever she pleased, resulted in a quick truce between the two, stopping the brotherly banter._

_Work was once again the primary focus and McGee crept closer to the edge, efficiently photographing the body, and marks which Ducky pointed out to him. It was at this point that disaster struck. Palmer was, as always, eager to please and be useful to his mentor, and leaned forward to gain a better view of an interesting injury he had noticed. Leaning almost all of his weight onto his hand, he was so intently focusing on his discovery that he did not see how close to the edge he was, and how moving to get a better look meant his upper body was almost completely over the side. _

_McGee turned, and noticing Palmer's precarious position instinctively moved closer as he opened his mouth to warn him. Before he could begin, Palmer leaned even more fully on his hand, focusing most of his body weight onto one of the very worn and loose areas of the edge, shifting the rubble and causing him to begin to topple forward. As he yelped in shock and fright, alerting the rest of the team to his predicament, McGee reacted with speed honed by years of working in the field. He stepped forward and extended his arm grabbing Palmer's wrist with his hand and using the contact to pull Jimmy back past him onto more stable ground, Palmer stumbled as he stood and turned breathlessly to thank McGee, only for his eyes to widen in horror. _

_Unfortunately as McGee had stepped forward to Palmer's aid he had been forced to place his feet onto the loose rubble at the edge, and although it had seemed to hold at first, as he pulled Palmer backwards, as turned to join him on the secure path the rocks had slipped, causing Tim to slide off the edge. The team watched in growing horror as Tim continued over the edge and out of sight followed by a clatter of the small jagged stones. They rushed forwards all yelling for their friend, all reaching attempting to halt his fall, but he slid out of reach down the steep incline._

_McGee heard the concerned yells from above him, as cries of, "McGee!", "Timothy!","Probie!" followed him on his journey. He had a brief moment of amusement that even in this serious situation, Tony used the affectionate nickname, however this was quickly overshadowed by the pain, that came once the initial shock wore off. He felt the multiple sharp stings over his back, arms, and legs, as the rocks he was sliding over, at great speed, ripped through his clothing and bit into the skin. _

_He slid for a few moments until the incline gradually began to lessen and his speed slowed. Eventually he came to a stop, the jagged rocks still digging into his skin, some further than others and he released several groans as the sensation of pain became more apparent and intense as the rest of the shock wore off. _

_The team gathered together leaning over the edge, watching helplessly as McGee sped further away from them. They each released small sighs of relief as they noticed the slowing of his speed, they had not studied the drop closely beforehand, and had not noted that it was merely a few metres before it began to level out. There was still an edge of panic even as McGee eventually stopped, and this increased when he, at first did not seem to be moving. They waited together in silence for some indication of life from their fallen team member. _

_It was only a few moments of silence, but it seemed to drag on indefinitely, until Tony tentatively called out "Probie?". If anyone noticed how his voice broke slightly, with the fear he was feeling for a man he considered a little brother, no one commented. In any case, if anyone had picked up on his faltering tone, they quickly forgot it in the overwhelming relief they felt once a groan came from below, followed by a delightfully familiar voice calling "I'm Okay". _

"_I will be the judge of that when we get you back up here Timothy", Ducky called, quickly shifting into a professional mode, asking where McGee was feeling pain, and if he had hit his head at any point. Gibbs cracked a relieved smile, before he too jumped into action, ordering Tony and Ziva to fetch a rope from the van so they could haul McGee back up. _

_Once the team had slipped back into the well oiled machine they were, they quickly had the rope lowered down to their friend, and were able to more fully relax once he scrambled over the edge, breathing deeply. Ducky immediately swept in, attempting to assess McGee. He helped Tim into a sitting position before gently removed the tattered remains of his jacket and shirt, causing Tim to wince when they brushed over the fresh wounds on his skin. The team gasped when they saw the rivulets of blood rolling down his back and arms, mixed in with dust and dirt. Through the messy covering they could see some of the vicious looking scratches._

"_Oh Timothy" whispered Ducky._

"_It's okay, Ducky, I'm sure it looks worse than it is"_

"_While that may be true, dear boy, these need to be properly cleaned, and I'm afraid that is going to hurt." The team saw Tim tense in anticipation, but their main focus was still on the wounds on his back. _

"_Does he need a hospital Duck?" Gibbs moved to crouch down next to his injured man, carefully studying the pain lines on his face and the tight set of his jaw._

"_I don't think that will be necessary Jethro, from the looks of things he only had a mild concussion and most of these aren't deep enough to need stitches .If Timothy has no objection, I would be happy to take care of those that do." Both of the older men turned their attention to Tim._

"_Sure Ducky I trust you." He glanced over Ducky's shoulder and saw Palmer, who had been standing back, feeling guilty for his part in causing Tim's pain. He looked back at Ducky with a weak smile. "Besides, with Palmer to help you it won't take that long right?", Gibbs looked to where his man's gaze had flickered and saw a grateful smile appear on Palmer's face, he turned back to Tim proud that his first thought was still to make others feel better._

"_Well Timothy if that is the case, I would be happy to patch you up again. If we clean the wounds now I can stitch those that require it once we get back to NCIS, alright?"_

"_Fine Ducky, like I said, I trust you."_

"_Well let's get started, Mr. Palmer, if you would be so kind?" He gestured for his medical bag with his arm, and Palmer scrambled to oblige._

_While the others had been focusing on McGee's wounds, Tony had been looking at Tim. He noticed how exhausted he looked, and saw, with rising concern, how he wasn't able to sit up without using his arms to support him. He also watched, as those arms began to tremble, the muscles quivering with the exertion. Tony couldn't stand back any longer, and as Ducky and Palmer moved behind Tim to start cleaning the blood and debris from the marred skin, he took their place in front of his honorary sibling._

"_Hey buddy" he murmured, realising the man did not want attention drawn to his apparent weakness. "Need some help?"_

"_Tony?" McGee opened his eyes from where they had been screwed tightly shut, anticipating the sting of antiseptic._

"_Yeah McCliff diver" he grinned, attempting to get his friend to smile and not be embarrassed about what he was about to offer. He saw Tim's lips quirk upwards and continued in the same low tone,_

"_You look kind of shaky man, and I have been told on many occasions that I make a surprisingly comfortable pillow." He saw McGee was confused as to what he was saying, so instead of explaining he simply shifted Tim so he was kneeling instead, stating in a louder voice,_

"_It's probably easier for Ducky to get to the wounds like this", he then guided McGee's head towards him, as he too knelt down._

" _Did you do any damage to your McGeek brain on your little trip Probie?" He questioned drawing McGee's head closer all the time, as he moved his hands gently probing for injuries._

"_That was either a really clichéd pun, or really unfortunate wording Tony" McGee replied with a small smile, his voice shaking slightly as the weakness continued to take effect. "Ducky already checked, he thinks I might have a slight concussion"._

_Tony grinned back at him "Well take it from a man who probably holds the record of most concussed federal agent, an ice pack is really welcome" He grabbed one out of the first aid kit beside McGee, and drew Tim's head all the way in so it rested against his shoulder, while he applied the ice pack to the back of Tim's skull. Under the pretence of tending to McGee's head wound he whispered,_

"_Don't be afraid to lean on me man, I've got your six". He was rewarded with a grateful smile from McGee as comprehension finally dawned, and he used the contact he had with Tony's shoulder to ease more of his weight off of his straining body. _

_None of the other team members mentioned anything, realising, as Tony had that McGee didn't want attention drawn to this. They kept silent as, when Tim continued to tremble, Tony subtly wrapped an arm around his waist, providing extra support. _

_Tim relaxed as Tony supported him, while holding almost two separate conversations. One loud enough for the team to hear, regaling Tim with the many DiNozzo head wounds, (while Tim and Ziva joked that they explained a lot,), and another, quiet whispered interaction with McGee, getting him over the shock, murmuring that he was safe and he could calm down and relax, holding him tighter when the pain made him wince._

_Oblivious to the approving looks he was receiving from Gibbs, Ziva and Ducky, Tony kept his focus on Tim, easing him through the pain of Ducky's ministrations. Tim relaxed as he felt safe in the embrace of the man he trusted with his life, and who he depended upon like a brother, and who he literally leaned on for support as they walked haltingly back to the car._

_Ziva helped Tony out by calling "shotgun" as they approached the car, allowing Tony to naturally slip into the back of the vehicle with his newly bandaged friend._

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><p>Tim smiled slightly as he remembered how Tony had helped him. He had gone with him down to autopsy after they had got back to the navy yard, and sat with him, keeping up a never-ending stream of the many adventures of Tony DiNozzo while Ducky stitched up the deeper gashes.<p>

Tony had kept an eagle eye on him for the rest of the day, diverting hurricane Abby as she rushed forward for a hug when she was told of what happened, all while keeping up the bantering and teasing they regularly engaged in. At the end of the day he had driven Tim home, reminded him to take his antibiotics and pain meds, and by commenting on his new horror movie ringtone and how cool it was when someone called him in the middle of the night in a dark apartment, made Tim aware in his unique way that he could call him if he needed anything. He had offered to drive Tim to work the next day, but Tim had refused, (it put Tony way out of his route), but he promised to call Ziva if he felt he wasn't up to driving.

Tim thought about that conversation now with bitter amusement, there was no way he was up to driving to work, and he was too exhausted, sick and in pain to even contemplate reaching for the phone to call.

Something about what he had just remembered bothered him still. His fatigued brain stretched itself once again, focusing on one word: antibiotics. It made sense his brain told him, fever: the wounds on his back had become infected. Headache and Vomiting: it was no secret he had allergy problems and that extended to some medications, he was probably having an adverse reaction, which was heightening the symptoms from his concussion. Bleeding: he had tossed and turned in his sleep, restless as the fever came on and probably torn his stitches. Mystery solved, case closed.

His curiosity now appeased he began to give into the overwhelming pain and fatigue, once again passing out on the bathroom floor. Before he slipped back into darkness, he heard a noise coming from the other room, which seemed to cut through his head in an extra stab of pain. Phone, his exhausted mind supplied. On some level he knew he should answer it, maybe the person could help, but he had no energy left to even lift himself up, let alone make such a long journey. He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to overtake him once more.

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><p><strong>Wow that was long! I may not always update this much this soon, but it's the last day of half term holiday and I was bored. It's back to school tomorrow though, so updates may be irregular and further apart. I will try to write whenever I can.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, a much shorter update than before, so sorry, but I'm back at school now so this may become the normal length when I can get to it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way shape or form own the characters or plotlines of NCIS. I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement, and will return them to their rightful owners once my imagination is done running wild. Think of it like a library service.**

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><p>Tony DiNozzo was not worried, at all. He was only glancing at his phone every ten seconds to check the time, and <em>not<em>, to see if a certain Probie had called him. He knew his Probie was fine. He would walk out of the elevator any minute now, any second. Just because it was almost the first time in their years of working together that Tony had beaten his friend into work, did not mean that disaster had struck again. There was no way McGee was in any kind of danger, there were no cliffs whatsoever near his apartment he reasoned, even as his inner voice reminded him plenty of other things could have happened to his friend. But Tony was not paying attention to that voice, at all. He was ignoring it completely. He was not having a complete internal freak out picturing Timothy McGee dead in an alley, collapsed at the bottom of the stairs, dying in a car accident or flashbacks of yesterday, when for one terrible moment, he had been convinced his little brother was dead. So what if McGee hadn't answered when he rang him as he was leaving for work? He had probably already left, was driving in at that very moment so had not needed the lift Tony was calling to offer once again. Except, the same small voice told him, if that was the case Tim would have beaten him here, would have been sitting at his desk that at this moment, was terrifyingly empty.

Tony sighed as he looked at his phone once again. He was in major denial. He wasn't just worried, he was frigging terrified. He thought grey hairs may have begun to sprout in the mere 5 minutes he had been sitting here. Also, what he had been calling the little voice in his head was actually a massive booming shout that was screaming at him all of the things that could have gone wrong since he left McGee at his apartment. He was mentally head slapping himself for leaving Tim alone last night and ... he had left his best friend alone with a concussion! He could have slipped into a coma, his brain could have melted, he could have gotten dizzy, fallen over and been killed as his tie sucked him into his shredder for goodness sake! What kind of big brother could he claim to be that he left Tim to meet such a horrific fate! He forced himself to try and calm down, this was getting ridiculous, Tim was a capable federal agent, not some weird cheesy comedy character, there was no way Tim had been choked by his shredder and besides, Ducky had checked the head wound, assured them that aside from a headache McGee should suffer very few complications. Tony trusted Ducky's judgement. Completely. All Tim had to do was take a few small pills and all concussion complications gone. So what if McGee could have easily taken too many pills, be lying on his kitchen floor dying from an accidental overdose, have gotten high from some freaky reaction and decided jumping out of his apartment window was a good idea? Tony felt like banging his head against his desk, sometimes he thought the others might be right... he watched way too many movies.

As he continued to freak out as his hyperactive imagination killed off his friend in numerous and various ways, (slipped in the shower, choked on the pills, getting electrocuted when he went to pick up the phone- OMG his phone call had killed his best friend!) he, at first, missed it when Ziva came walking into the bullpen. It was only her customary,

"Good morning Tony" that alerted him to her presence. As soon as he _did _realise it however, a whole new wave of freak out descended on him.

"Have you heard from McGee this morning?"

"No, should I have?" Panic began to climb.

"He was going to call you if he wanted a lift to work"

"Well obviously he did not want one. I am failing to see the problem Tony, if he feels up to driving he is feeling better and this is good yes?" she seemed confused, and although a small part of Tony agreed with her logic, the overwhelming majority was cursing her stupidity, couldn't she see?

"Not if he's dead!" Now Ziva was definitely confused.

"I am sorry, what makes you think McGee is dead?"

"He's not here!" He cried exasperated waving his arms around. Ziva gave him a sympathetic, if still slightly puzzled look.

"Tony, McGee fell down a cliff yesterday, came back to work and solved a case; I think he is allowed to be slightly late, no?" Tony almost screamed with frustration, could no one else see? Probie being late was not normal. It just didn't happen. He was pretty sure Timothy McGee being late should be on the list of signs that the apocalypse is upon us.

"It's not normal Ziva! He ingested fatal amounts of caffeine to follow the Gibbs schedule of work! Him being late has only happened like ... twice, and I highly doubt his sister turned up on his front doorstep covered in blood once again, that doesn't happen to people more than once a decade."

Ziva was highly amused at the mother hen act Tony was doing. Even though he liked to pretend he did not care that much about McGee she knew they were as close as, if not closer than, brothers. They depended on each other; McGee had been a constant in Tony's life ever since he had entered it. After Kate had died, Tim had been there to comfort him, and have his back. When Gibbs had left Tim had stepped up, become Tony's senior field agent without a word of protest, in fact he had been _proud _to hold that position, defended the choice of team leader to anyone who dared to mock the promotion of the "class clown". When Ziva had gone Tim had been there. He was almost like a permanent fixture, and she could see that almost having that torn away yesterday had shaken Tony to his core.

"Tony, I am sure he is fine, you are simply overreacting." She attempted to reassure him but it was no use.

"He is _not_ fine Ziva! If he was fine he would be sitting at that desk right there!" he pointed emphatically. "He would be huffing annoyingly on his coffee, picking the sprinkles off a doughnut, confusing the hell out of both of us with some technical computer mumbo jumbo, and rolling his eyes at the story of one of my amazingly hot dates! That is not happening and therefore he is not fine! "He sat down exasperated almost shouting by the end of his speech, and, letting his head fall into his hands cried "Why am I the only one that sees this?"

"If you're that worried DiNozzo, go check on him."

Tony's head shot up at this and he looked at the man who had mysteriously appeared, as if out of thin air.

"Really Boss" he asked hopefully, already shifting out of his seat ready to make a run for the elevator, when something stopped him. "Wait, do you have a gut feeling something's wrong? Even the tiniest little niggle? Because the gut never lies and..." he began to panic again.

"Dinozzo!"

"Yes Boss?"

"Go check on him."

"But Boss, did you ..."

"I'm agreeing with you DiNozzo" Gibbs glanced at his absent agent's desk, "It's not like McGee to be this late and not tell anyone."

Tony felt relieved and terrified all at the same time, someone else could see it! But that meant his Probie could be hurt...dying...dead. Why was he wasting time? He grabbed his gun and badge and resumed his earlier plan of rushing to the elevator, all the while attempting to recall what he had seen of Ziva's driving when he had managed to keep his eyes open...and if it was possible for him to go any faster.

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><p><strong>Yay, the cavalry's on its way! I was going to have this chapter with Tony just turning up at McGee's apartment to offer a lift, but I liked the idea of him freaking out in his own unique way, so sorry Tim has to wait slightly longer for rescue, but it will be coming in the next chapter. Promise.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys another update! This is not very long I just wanted to give you guys something and this was a little bit that didn't really fit in the chapter before or the one after. I have a three day weekend this week and (fingers crossed!) not much more homework to do, so I'll be spending my free time on Friday, and over the weekend writing you some more chapters, maybe even finishing the story, who knows? Anyway sorry for the short update but I promise a much longer one on Friday, as well as a possible update later today or tomorrow hope you like it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way shape or form own the characters or plotlines of NCIS. I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement, and will return them to their rightful owners once my imagination is done running wild. Think of it like a library service.**

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><p>Tony almost sprinted up the stairs to McGee's apartment. Actually there was no almost about it, he was moving as fast as humanly possible, muttering, "I knew it" to himself all the way, cursing himself for not listening to his worries sooner. On the way over here his driving had come close to rivalling Ziva's in its speed and recklessness. He thought he had broken more traffic laws in the past few minutes than he had since he first got his licence, but his Probie, his little brother, needed him. He had constantly tried to convince himself that McGee would be fine when he arrived, or maybe they would have passed each other, and would laugh about how paranoid Tony had been when he made it back to the office. The larger part of his brain however, was still following the doom and gloom path, and the "what ifs?" were driving him insane.<p>

Unfortunately, when he pulled into the parking lot outside McGee's building, the larger part of his brain seemed to be the correct one. His blood ran cold the moment he saw the distinctive silver Porsche sitting in its assigned spot, indicating his friend had not left for work as everyone else had assumed. Now he had confirmation that even if his wild theories were way off the mark, something was wrong.

This was what had prompted the burst of adrenaline. Too impatient to even think about waiting for the elevator, Tony was taking the stairs two or three at a time, coming closer and closer to the apartment, where he instinctively knew he was needed. When he reached the right floor, he flung the door open and sprinted down the corridor at a pace any gold medallist would have been proud of. He was, in fact, going so fast that if this had been one of his beloved movies he would have sprinted past his goal and had to have come to a sudden stop when he realised. Tony DiNozzo though, was not a movie character, and was so intently focused on where he wanted, no _needed _to be, that there would have been no way for him to pass it. It was as if he had blinders on that only allowed him to focus on that single destination, that single goal, getting to Timothy McGee.

It was with both relief and trepidation that he paused outside Tim's door, fumbling through his pocket to retrieve the spare key he had been entrusted with, briefly contemplating simply kicking the door down, while desperately straining his ears listening for some sign of life from inside. He could have wept with relief when, finally, he managed to extract his keys from his pocket. Quickly he located the one he needed, twisting it in the lock and shoving on the door willing for it to give and open. His prayers were answered and, after a brief moment of resistance, the door swung inwards and admitted him.

"McGee!" the moment he crossed into the apartment he began calling for his friend, quickly kicking the door shut behind him.

"Probie, you in here?" he glanced around him as he swiftly moved deeper into the apartment, sparing a quick glance to the shredder as he passed it, checking it was switched off at the wall. After eliminating that, however insanely unlikely, possibility he continued looking around, spotting McGee's phone and keys lying on the side still. He figured checking the bedroom first would be a good idea, but his destination changed as he heard a small groan, and caught a whiff of a very distinctive smell coming from the bathroom.

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><p>Timothy McGee had given up assessing his condition. It was the same as it had been for the last however many hours, so why bother? It was the same thing every time he woke up, everything was burning with agonising pain, he felt weak and nauseous if he attempted to move even the tiniest amount, and his whole body was engulfed with heat. He didn't understand then <em>why <em>his body kept forcing him back to consciousness. He knew _what_ it was his brain was telling him to do he just didn't understand _how_ it expected him to do it. His mind was screaming at him that he needed to call Tony. He needed to get up and ring him, ask him to come over and help him. He knew he should probably call Ducky, after all, he had a medical degree, would know how to deal with whatever was wrong. But his fevered brain was not running on logic, it knew what he actually wanted and needed at that moment, and that was Tony.

Tony was to him what he was to Sarah, a big brother. Someone he could run to without a second's hesitation, without even consciously thinking about it. When he had first began to rely on Tony this much, he had been unable to ask for the help himself, just trusted Tony to know when he needed him, now though, things had changed. When he was struggling, he unconsciously found himself on Tony's doorstep, holding DiNozzo's favourite pizza and a six pack of his preferred brand of beer, without remembering even making the decision to come. Tony would just open the door, look at him for a moment and usher him in. It worked. When he was in trouble he went to Tony, because no matter if neither he nor Tony ever acknowledged openly how close they had become, he knew Tony was always there for him and him for Tony. Now though, he couldn't go to Tony, his own body was preventing him from getting what he wanted and needed most in the world, the comfort and support of his big brother. And so he had laid here for the past few hours, desperately hoping whatever "Probie sense" DiNozzo used to use was tingling like hell, and he would turn up at any moment, ease him through the pain as he had yesterday.

He was just contemplating dropping back to sleep, (after all lying on the floor in a ball of agony wasn't something he needed to remain conscious for), when he heard a key jiggling in the lock. It should frighten him he realised, helpless and defenceless as he was, but if it was someone with a key he trusted them. Hell even if they didn't have a key and were picking the lock they were probably people he trusted anyway, he felt like laughing at how weird that would sound to anyone that wasn't a member of the unique group of people that was Gibbs' team.

It was only a few seconds later that he head the door swing open and someone step inside, shouting out as they did so. Even though the shout pounded through his head he couldn't bring himself to focus on the pain that had been his foremost thought for the past few hours, all he could feel was the overwhelming wave of relief as he instinctively felt safer, better now that Tony was here.

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><p><strong>Yay he got there! Hope you liked the chapter, not much action in this one but like I said I promise you'll get a long one on Friday as well as (hopefully!) another update today or tomorrow. Hope you stick with it! Also for everyone who voted for this to be a slash fic don't worry, as soon as this is finished I'll write a multi chapter McNozzo fic (already have some ideas but suggestions, prompts or requests are welcomed), and may write a quick one shot before then if I get bored, just for funzies. <strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, as promised another chapter. I don't know how much longer this is going to be, I keep sitting down to write and more things just keep popping into my head! Guess we'll just have to see where it goes. In case anyone was wondering I have planned out a basic plotline for a McNozzo fic, and so that should be appearing soon. It probably won't be until I've finished this but you never know.**

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way shape or form own the characters or plotlines of NCIS. I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement, and will return them to their rightful owners once my imagination is done running wild. Think of it like a library service.**

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><p>Tony flung the door open now he knew where Tim was. He had seen the phone on the side, the missed call flashing up on the screen, so he knew his phone call hadn't been fatal, and the shredder had already been cleared. The problem was he still didn't know what <em>was <em>wrong. The smell of vomit and the light groans emanating from the bathroom were not encouraging, and neither was the sight he found upon entering.

This was one of those times when people would freeze with shock, but Tony, as his team seemed to frequently remind him, was not like most people. He was very special Agent DiNozzo, and he barely missed a beat before rushing to Tim's side. He thought that maybe it was because he had been preparing himself to find Tim in some sort of trouble, (well he'd been contemplating death by electrical appliances or brain melting), but he found it more likely that he had put all of his effort, his focus, into getting here to Tim's side that no way in hell was something as stupid as an instinctive reaction going to stop him, even a whole crateful of deadly plague powder wouldn't have kept him away.

He knelt down beside Tim, taking in the blood that littered his back, exposed by the curled up position he held himself in, his back to the door and Tony. He again cursed himself for leaving Tim alone last night, he was supposed to look after his Probie, not leave him to... whatever the hell had happened. He reached out tentatively to gently grasp McGee's shoulder, he remembered where the wounds were (he didn't think he would ever forget seeing Tim like that), and tried to select a spot where he would cause the least amount of pain. Two things caused him to jerk his hand back. Apparently despite his caution he had still hit a sore spot, judging by the pitiful moan Tim released, and, secondly, his Probie was burning up! The heat was rolling off him and, now that he looked closer he could see the exposed skin was flushed and covered in sweat.

If he thought he had been worried earlier, this was a whole new level of pure primal fear. He wasn't a doctor; he didn't know what to do! Wait didn't people's brains melt if their fever got too high? Oh man he knew it! McGee's brain was melting! He tried not to panic, to stay calm, but ... he wasn't a doctor! He had no clue what to do! He almost wished the shredder had been holding his friend captive, then he could have used his knife to cut his friend free... and his gun to ensure the machine that hurt his Probie died a horrible death, at least McGee's neighbour would have been pleased. He breathed deeply and calmed himself down. This wasn't helping Tim. Tim should be his primary focus, he hadn't been there for him for however long he had been here and now that he was, he was damn sure going to do everything in his power to make up for his late arrival.

He had just come to this internal conclusion, when he was brought sharply back into the small bathroom by a weak pitiful voice moaning his name.

"Tony?" It was barely audible, but the tone of voice screamed to Tony, he heard the hope, that this was real, the relief that it was and most heartbreakingly of all, the pain.

"Yeah Tim, it's me I'm here, you needed me" he reached out again, being sure to make his touch light and gentle. He heard the sigh of relief Tim released as well as the small chuckle. He was confused; Tim was in pain, why was he laughing? Oh no, the brain melting was altering Tim's normal common sense! He forced himself to remain calm. Maybe he should actually ask McGee what was wrong instead of driving himself crazy with all these assumptions.

"What's so funny man?"

"Your, 'Probie sense was tingling'" McGee breathed. Tony was confused and Tim obviously figured that from his silence so he continued with his explanation.

"I was thinking earlier... about how you always used to know when I needed, or wanted you, like you had some sort of 'Probie sense'." Tony had to grin a little at that, despite the ever-present worry. Tim had wanted _him_. While he was going through all this pain, and judging from the smell, sickness, he had wanted Tony with him. It warmed his heart to realise this, and his determination to do his job as Tim's older brother, his protector, increased tenfold.

"Yeah man, I guess I do" His grin widened "Ziva was very amused by it." McGee gave a small laugh and then a groan. Tony sobered immediately, and attempted to figure out what was wrong, moving round so he was in front of McGee, and could see the pain lines on his face.

"What hurts Tim?"

"Head, and back mostly" he gasped, "but everything aches and the heat feels like I'm burning."

"Could your headache be a sign of brain melting?" Tony asked, the words slipped out before he had a chance to tell his brain how stupid that was going to sound, but he was worried, people blurt out random things when they panic. He heard Tim give another small laugh, and saw the slight curve of his lips.

"Tony... you watch way too many movies. I think it's just the concussion, plus I think I pulled some of the stitches and maybe..."

"Maybe what?" Tony was panicking again, there was something else wrong? He saw Tim wince and realised his voice was echoing in the bathroom, and with Tim's headache that had to be painful. He made sure he lowered his voice.

"What else is wrong Tim?" he heard the small sigh Tim released in relief at this lower level of sound.

"I think I might be having a bad reaction to the meds... and my wounds might be infected."

"Crap" Tony muttered. He really didn't know how to deal with this. As he was trying to figure out what he should do, McGee shifted on the floor, causing a grimace to spread over his face and he began breathing deeply. Putting the facial expression together with the smell, he helped Tim shift into a kneeling position over the toilet. McGee planted his hands on the side, gripping tightly onto the seat for support, his arms shaking as he struggled to hold himself upright as the heaving began. As he had the day before, Tony reached out to help and support McGee's weight, taking the strain off of his protesting arms. He winced in sympathy as the heaving gave way to the inevitable vomiting, but he ignored that in favour of dealing with what Tim needed. He held him through it, whispering words of comfort and support.

"It's almost over buddy just breathe... that's good. You'll be fine Tim I'm here, just let it all out." He continued like this until Tim shakily announced that he was done. He lowered Tim back to the ground, stepping away for an instant as an idea hit him. He returned seconds later with a cool wash cloth that he had run under the tap. He moved so he was sitting next to Tim's head, before gently lifting Tim under his arms so his head was positioned on Tony's lap against his chest, Tim's upper body was supported by Tony's legs, so his injured back barely pressed against the ground. Tim sighed in relief and closed his eyes as Tony began gently stroking his face with the cloth, wiping the sweat away from the bout of nausea, and cooling his fevered skin. Tony was still unsure as to what needed to be done. Tim seemed to be appreciating what he was doing, but Tony still didn't know if he was sick enough to need an ambulance and a hospital, besides there were the pulled stitches to worry about.

The answer came to him suddenly and he once again mentally head slapped himself for not thinking of it sooner. He could call Ducky, have him come and check Tim out and see what needed to be done, as well as stitching him back up again. He thought about stepping outside to call him, he would need to speak loudly enough for Ducky to hear him on the other end, and that was sure to cause McGee more discomfort if he stayed here to ring. He didn't like that idea, it would bring help to Tim sure, but he had worked so hard to be by his brother's side, (he had driven like Ziva, and her driving was petrifying), there was no way he was leaving now. Besides Tim needed him, nothing even Gibbs could say would pry him from his Probie's side until he was sure Tim was no longer in any imminent danger. Compromising, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text to Ziva, briefly feeling guilty he hadn't let them know about Tim as soon as he arrived. He just said he wanted Ducky to come and take a look at Tim, detailing Tim's suspicions about what might be wrong, and his symptoms, hoping that meant Ducky could come prepared to help. After a moment of debate he added a short line about not telling Abby. He knew he would pay for that later, but in McGee's current state he wouldn't be able to take Abby's hyperactive version of worry, and right now Tim's welfare was his top priority. A visit from the lab scientist, no matter how well intended, would no doubt be worse for Tim's condition rather than helpful.

He had just finished sending the message, when Tim moved restlessly in his lap. Turning back to his friend he saw the sweat and pain building up on his face again. Tony quickly picked up the washcloth and continued his ministrations, and Tim's features seemed to relax, and he released another small sigh of contentment. A few seconds later his eyes opened and he blinked blearily at Tony, revealing the fevered glaze over Tim's normally bright green eyes.

"'m tired Tony." He sighed, before closing his eyes and shifting his head, unconsciously snuggling in closer to the comfort he associated with Tony. Tony smiled fondly as he watched the man, continuing his soothing motion with the cloth.

"Go to sleep Tim" he whispered, "Ducky's coming, he'll probably be here by the time you wake up, he'll know what to do, and make you feel better... You might even get the good drugs."

Tim smiled slightly " 'k ". Tony thought he was dropping off to sleep when suddenly Tim's eyes opened once again, he looked embarrassed and panicked for a moment and Tony wondered what was wrong before he tentatively whispered,

"You're staying, right?" Tony, relieved, smiled encouragingly at him, proud once again that Tim wanted him specifically.

"Yeah Tim, I'm staying" he promised earnestly. Tim released another sigh, and smiled slightly as he closed his eyes.

"Good" he muttered, "Thanks Tony."

"You don't need to thank me McGee, I've always got your six... it's what I do"

"You're good at what you do Tony... really good." With that McGee settled down in Tony's arms and drifted off to sleep, missing the dazzling smile that had planted itself on Tony's face.

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><p><strong>Hope you liked it, as promised will try to give you a longer one tomorrow.<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, so this is the long one I promised. Hope you like it.**

**WARNINGS: in this I have some detailed spoilers for old episodes, and reference to a previous character death. They are not recent episodes so most of you will have seen them, but in case you haven't I'm just warning you now.**

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way shape or form own the characters or plotlines of NCIS. I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement, and will return them to their rightful owners once my imagination is done running wild. Think of it like a library service.**

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><p>Ziva was reading the cold case files she had been assigned for the day when the message from Tony came through. She quickly pulled out her phone and read the text on the screen, letting out a small gasp as she did so, face falling. The noise caused Gibbs to look up from his own file, and shoot a questioning glance in her direction.<p>

"Tony found McGee" she informed him, "he says he is quite ill, has pulled his stitches, and has a high fever. McGee told him he thinks his wounds got infected and he may have reacted badly to the medication he was given. He wants Ducky to come and see if McGee needs a hospital and to replace his stitches. He also says we are not to tell Abby, and definitely not to let her come round." Gibbs' face had fallen too as he listened, and worry had crept into his eyes. He indicated that Ziva should call Ducky up to the bull pen while he lent back in his chair and thought about what he had just been told.

He second guessed his decision in not going with his senior field agent to check on their team member, but at the same time he had a deep confidence in Tony's abilities and knew he could cope with the situation. Like Ziva he noticed how close the two were, he liked to think he knew everything he needed to about his team and their dynamic, and truthfully he probably did. At first he had been worried about McGee. He seemed to be afraid to come to people for support when he struggled with a case, and Gibbs had seen that tear many good agents apart, as they bottled things up inside. However McGee didn't seem to be like that, he seemed to be coping just fine, and would come into work the following day having found his confidence and belief in what they were doing again. It was then that Gibbs started observing the man more closely, and noticed that on these mornings McGee would always bring Tony coffee, help with his computer without complaint, and give him a small grateful smile. It was then he realised McGee wasn't afraid to come to people with his problems; he just had a different person than Tony and Ziva. While they sought him out in his sawdust covered basement, he went to Tony.

Gibbs figured his choice made sense, all while he had been growing up McGee had been the older brother, the person his sister had automatically sought out in a time of need. Now that he was the one in need of protection, he followed his sister's example and went to an older brother figure, rather than a parental one. This both made Gibbs proud and worried him slightly. He was proud that his two boys relied and depended on each other, and had built such a deep level of trust. However McGee's reluctance to reach out to parental figures in his life sometimes made Gibbs wonder if the idyllic childhood they had imagined McGee to have was far from the truth, and McGee may have more in common with Tony than he let on. Whatever the explanation, McGee was still a damn fine agent, and unless it became an issue that McGee didn't want to burden Tony with, Gibbs would leave it alone. Right now Tim's health was his main concern, and he understood why Tony had barred Abby from going. That, however, was not going to stop _him_, and he doubted it would stop Ziva. He waited impatiently for Ducky to arrive.

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><p>Tony was also waiting for Ducky's appearance. He still held McGee's head cradled in his lap, gently wiping the cloth across his face, and despite the worry he was still feeling, a hint of the grin Tim's comment had prompted still remained. Tony hadn't had any brothers and sisters growing up and he had never been close enough to any of his friends to consider them his siblings. Sure he'd had frat brothers at college, but it wasn't really the same kind of relationship he had with Tim. In fact it wasn't even close. He had been instrumental in Tim's training, drawing out the potential that Gibbs had seen, encouraging it to grow and mature, all the while making Tim slowly draw out of his shell, until he felt comfortable teasing Tony back, and engaging in playful verbal sparring matches. Tony had taken the inexperienced Probie and watched him grow into the capable agent before him. He knew with Tim that he had earned that friendship and trust, up until they reached the point where they would both willingly be captured by terrorists, just to ensure the other didn't go alone.<p>

Tony had never before had that sense of responsibility that an older sibling feels, to ensure their younger counterparts are safe and secure, the feeling of resentment towards anyone that dares to hurt them. It was different than the protective instincts he had felt towards previous partners, this was a deep rooted need to keep one particular person safe, and to ensure that he and Ziva were the only ones allowed to tease him. He smiled at that, he remembered an FBI agent they had once worked with had picked up on the habit of calling McGee Probie, he had quickly set them straight. McGee wasn't a Probie, only he, Tony DiNozzo had the right to call him that. Coming from him it was a term of endearment, which reminded both of them how much they had been through together, other people didn't have the right to that, coming from them it simply demeaned Tim's abilities, and tore into his already fragile self confidence.

That first night McGee had come to him, Tony had been shocked and hesitant. Sure he had stepped in when Tim needed him, but he had never asked for help before. Tony had always assumed that when Tim did work up the nerve to seek out help when he needed it, that he would do as Tony did, and seek comfort in Gibbs' basement; he was only there until that moment arrived. He didn't know if he would be up to the task of making sure that his Probie was reassured, to give him the feeling of security a talk with Gibbs usually gave to him. He had done his best, gone with his instincts; they had talked about nothing important for a while, before he had got up and slipped on a movie. He had made Tim laugh with the random trivia he had spouted, and his quotes and impressions of the actors. He had watched in amazement as the tense set of Tim's face had gradually eased away, and in some moments of open unconcealed laughter, only pure joy remained. After Tim had left however, he had doubted himself, had he really done anything that special? He and McGee hadn't talked about the problem really, they had just hung out. He had worried all night about how well he had done, and had gone into work the next day prepared to confess his failure to Gibbs and ask him to have a talk with McGee. He had been shocked and overwhelmingly pleased when he had been treated to the sight of Tim bounding into the bullpen, handing him a coffee with a grateful smile, before sitting down at his desk and enthusiastically digging in to his cold case load for the day.

After that evening, he didn't really know why he hadn't expected it to happen again, but it hadn't really occurred to him, so he was once again surprised the next time Tim turned up on his doorstep, brandishing pizza and beer with a subdued smile, and a hesitant look, as if he was afraid of rejection. Tony had simply stood aside and allowed him in. After that it became a regular occurrence. Sometimes Tim would simply turn up on a weekend off, rather than when he needed guidance and the two simply hung out and behaved like the siblings they had become. Tony smiled fondly down at his little brother as he remembered all the childish teasing and arguments that had occurred on such weekends. As he slowly drew the cloth across McGee's forehead again he silently promised that they would have a movie night when this was over. They hadn't had the chance in the past few weeks and Tony had missed the bonding time.

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><p>Ducky still hadn't arrived when Tim began to stir again, and Tony panicked momentarily. Tim's breathing was picking up speed and his head moved from side to side, as his face and muscles tensed. He didn't know what was wrong! Should he wake him up? Was he having a seizure? He didn't know! He felt just as worried as he had the first time McGee turned up on his doorstep, maybe even more so, as failure this time could cost Tim his life. He frantically tried to think of something to do, while continuing his soothing with the cloth.<p>

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><p>Tim had been sleeping soundly, comforted as he had so often been, simply by Tony's presence. Then the dreams came. They started out innocently enough. Normal everyday dreams, hanging out with his friends, walking his dog. Granted there were weird giant marshmallows and slices of pizza at one point but he was sick, he figured he was allowed to have slightly crazy dreams. Then... then they slipped into the world of nightmares. The pleasant feeling of security he had been revelling in slowly slipped away, and pure fear and despair came down on him.<p>

_It was so real it was terrifying. He forgot all about how he was asleep, safe in Tony's lap. He looked around him. There was no confusion as to his location. He knew. Within seconds he recognised the place. Warehouse... missile...team on the roof...Ari...Kate. He looked in front of him... the computers... he needed to stop the missile... innocent people. He began typing frantically...a bullet slammed into the side of the car. He flinched, immediately shifting his position. Something was wrong, his brain screamed to him. He didn't know how he knew but something screamed at him...something about the roof? _

_Without even moving, he found himself there. That puzzled him momentarily, but he forgot that when he saw his team...Gibbs, Tony and...Kate. Overwhelming sadness and horror filled him, and he had no idea why. Tony and Kate were laughing, Gibbs was smiling. What was wrong? His brain continued to scream at him, flashing images of Kate... dead before his eyes... lying in an autopsy draw. And then, with sudden clarity, he knew, he ran forward, attempted to cry out, but it was as if they couldn't hear him, like even though he was pushing himself so hard to reach them he wasn't moving anywhere..._

_And then he was right next to her... right beside Kate. He watched as the bullet ripped through her skull... the light fading from her eyes, her smile frozen as she fell. He dropped to his knees as despair filled him... "Kate" he whispered, as if she could still hear him, but it was like a part of him knew that it was inevitable, that that was what was going to happen. Then why couldn't I stop it? He didn't know, all he knew was that he wanted Tony. He needed him, where was he? He had a vague memory of Tony promising he would stay... so where was he?_

_Tim looked up again, and looked at a screen in front of him. He needed to find Tony. He tracked his cell... why did he need to track him? Weren't they on the roof? He looked around again, he was in... MTAC? But he needed to find Tony... Director Sheppard needed him to find Tony. Wait... Director Sheppard? Something in his brain again began to scream at him, but he ignored it...he needed Tony. He typed on autopilot, and pulled up a traffic cam feed. He watched Tony's distinctive blue car driving down the road, and the overwhelming sense of dread filled him again... when had he felt it before? He watched in horror, as the car carrying his best friend, his brother, exploded in a ball of fire. It was all he could see, the bright burning flames right in front of his eyes._

_Once again, without any movement, he found himself somewhere different. He was right in front of the flames. His skin was searing, boiling under the heat. And Tony... Tony was screaming... pain filled blood curdling screams that tore through Tim. He tried fighting his way through the fire, through the blistering heat, but he couldn't. He tried again and again, calling Tony's name... but he couldn't do it. He couldn't help him. His partner's car had blown up... had killed him... and he hadn't been there. He had left him to die... even when he had got there he had failed to save him. _

_The tears were pouring now. Rolling down his cheeks as he stared at the smoking burnt out shell of a car, body seated in the front. He knew something was wrong with the picture... something tried to push forward from the back of his mind. But he couldn't focus on it... all he could see was the body in the front seat... his partner... his best friend... his brother... dead. The tears moved to sobbing, as he muttered Tony's name over and over again, his despair driving all conscious thought from his mind as he attempted to release some of the grief that was threatening to drown him._

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><p>"No, Tony no... Please don't be dead... not like Kate... please Tony... No, no, no."<p>

Tony froze for a moment as he heard his friend utter those words. He looked down at Tim in shock, as he halted his inner debate as to what could be wrong. He had panicked even further when tears had begun running down Tim's face, and his breathing had become harsh and rushed. He had thought he had been in some sort of pain...that something was happening. And he had... he'd been suffering the pain of thinking that he had died. The tossing and turning, the mumbling, it wasn't some crazy named medical situation... his brother had been suffering a nightmare. Even as he reached down, attempting to do his duty as Tim's protector and save him from the dream, he thought back to how, over the past few minutes. He had tried to make sense of the hardly audible words, but now he realised, Tim had been calling out for help... calling out for him.

He gently patted Tim's face, and when he simply continued to toss on his lap, attempted a different approach. He whispered soothing words to Tim.

"I'm here buddy, I'm not dead, I'm right here... I promised I'd stay Tim didn't I? Come on just open your eyes... I'm safe, your safe, come on Tim, I'm right here, I promise."

He gently spoke to Tim, continuing to stroke his forehead with the cloth, as he ran his other hand soothingly over Tim's head, through his short hair, attempting to prove to him he was alive and well. He breathed a sigh of relief as McGee relaxed slightly, his breathing becoming more even and not the almost desperate gasping it had shifted to as the terror of the dream gripped him. Eventually, as Tony continued to gently soothe Tim, he blinked his tear filled eyes open and looked up at him. Tony smiled down at him, and whispered,

"Hey buddy, you Ok?"

Tim looked at him, hope and relief shining in his eyes.

"Tony?" he breathed.

"Yeah man, I'm right here."

To Tony's surprise Tim quickly shifted, turning his fevered body so that his face was buried in Tony's chest, his arm wrapping around Tony's waist and back. Tony froze with shock, and he felt Tim tense, and begin to pull back, as if his mind had finally registered what he had instinctively done, and felt he shouldn't have reached out for that comfort. Tony quickly reached out and stopped the movement, placing one arm gently around Tim's shoulders, mindful of his wounds, as he used his other hand to stroke Tim's hair again.

"Tony, you don't have to..." Tim mumbled, even as he stopped moving to get free.

"I'm Ok"

"I know I don't have to Tim... I want to." He felt Tim settle down again, face still buried against the solid warmth of Tony's chest. Tony had thought this kind of contact between them would be awkward, but he realised he had held Tim close yesterday and been holding Tim in his lap without a second thought, his only priority making sure that Tim felt comforted and safe.

Tim on the other hand was feverish and ill, so welcomed the soothing touch Tony had been giving him. When he had realised how he had moved to hug Tony, without thinking how the other would feel, he had immediately tried to pull back and apologise. His relief when Tony pulled him back in was indescribable; he needed the contact, needed to know that Tony was Ok. He felt comfortable and at ease with Tony, and was pleased that the other man didn't seem awkward about the contact either. He was afraid, when he had felt Tony tense that he had over stepped the mark by initiating the closeness before it was offered as it had been the day before. Instead he realised just how close he and Tony had become. Tony truly was his brother in everything but blood, and he was comforted by the steady beat of his heart that he could hear as his ear rested against Tony's chest. Proof that the dream had been just that, and Tony was still healthy, alive and... _here_.

Tony waited until Tim was completely relaxed against him, until he asked his question,

"Want to talk about it?"Tim tensed slightly, but he had gotten used to talking to Tony about his problems, and felt comfortable to do so. He just didn't know how to talk about this.

"I... was at the warehouse... The one where Kate... and it was just like then... but I felt sad, but couldn't remember why I should be... and then I just ignored it, kept trying to stop the missile... there was a shot that hit the car... and part of me suddenly knew I should be on the roof..."

Tony continued to stroke Tim's hair comfortingly, as he talked, drawing in a sharp breath and unconsciously pulling him slightly closer as he realised what was coming.

"Then I was there... I hadn't moved and I thought that was strange... but I was on the roof, and you guys where there... Gibbs was smiling, you were laughing and..." Tony felt McGee's shoulders shake as he began to cry again, and the images of that day, so similar to what McGee was describing flashed through his mind.

"...Kate... she was laughing too... she just looked so happy... but something was still screaming at me that something was wrong... and then I saw... us at the autopsy draw...looking at Kate...and... and I knew what was about to... I tried to run...shout... but you couldn't hear and ... it was like I couldn't move..." Tony felt it as the tears Tim was releasing began to soak into his shirt, and Tim paused in his story to take some deep breaths.

"I was just frozen... then I was right there... right next to her... but it was too late... just as the... bullet... hit her... I watched her eyes... the life... the sparkle... just...gone...I tried to say her name... to see if she could hear me... but I knew... and I wanted you... but you weren't there...I sort of remembered you promising to stay... I couldn't understand why you hadn't..." Tony continued holding Tim, just being there for him, allowing him to release the terror and grief he had been feeling, reassuring him his promise had been kept, that he was still here.

"I just kept thinking... knew I had to find you... I started to track your phone... I was confused... but I forgot I'd been at the warehouse... why I wanted you... I just kept doing as... Director Sheppard said... Just knowing I needed... wanted you and this would do it... and then I found the traffic cam... Found your car..."

Tony had been momentarily confused at the mention of director Sheppard, but Tim's later words clued him in as to what he had been remembering... but judging from what he had cried out, with a very different ending.

"It was right there on the screen... and I just felt the dread again...like I knew what was going to happen... then the fire was everywhere... it was all I could see... and then I was there... right next to the car... like I'd been right next to... Kate... and you were... screaming... In so much pain... It was all I could hear... I tried to get to you... I called to you... but the heat and the burning... I couldn't... I let you die...I just stared... and the flames were gone... the car looked just like it did then... when we were processing it the... body... but it was different... then I kept telling Ziva... trying to convince myself it wasn't you... no matter what my mind and the evidence was telling me... but in the dream... I just knelt in the road...stared at the body...at you..."

Here McGee trailed off, the sobs over taking him once again as he clung to Tony, needing the reassurance that he was in fact alive. His fevered brain told him he didn't normally act like this, and that he should be embarrassed. However, he was ill and weak, his brain not processing as it usually did, pushing his normal pride and hesitation aside allowing him to give in and simply take the comfort he would usually be too nervous to accept. He couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed either. This was Tony. Tony teased him, but not about something like this. His fear of heights, and his geekiness were things Tony teased him for, and no matter what other people thought about Tony, Tim knew he would be sickened even by the suggestion that this was something he could hold over Tim's head.

Tony simply held Tim at first, feeling guilty about that day. The team had spent hours thinking he was dead, and no matter how hard Tim had worked to convince himself otherwise, he knew he had still held the fear that it was in fact Tony's body lying on that autopsy table. Tim had turned up on Tony's doorstep again. They had sat, watched movies. They hadn't talked much but he knew that Tim had simply needed the reassurance that he was there. That had been one of the few times Tim had stayed over after their frequent bonding time. He hadn't said anything, but Tony had seen him sending nervous glances to the clock at the time he would usually have left. Without a word Tony had stood up, pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and handed it to Tim, who had smiled gratefully in relief. He hadn't mentioned the mumbling he had heard from the couch as Tim had tossed and turned in his sleep, and had pretended to be asleep himself when he heard the footsteps creeping towards his bedroom and the door creaking as McGee peered in. He had made sure his breathing lifted the covers up and down in a reassuring and regular rhythm, and the pang of guilt at causing the worry as he heard the sigh of relief from the doorway.

Tim continued to sob in Tony's arms, his sickness and fear conspiring against him, allowing the emotions he would normally have attempted to hold in, overwhelm him. Tony, feeling his struggle as his weak body shook with the force of the emotion pouring out of him, and the growing wet patch on his shirt, attempted to whisper comforting words as he had done earlier.

"It's Ok, Tim it's Ok. It was just a dream... a nightmare... It wasn't real, I'm still here, just like I promised Ok?... I'm alive, I'm safe... it wasn't me in the car remember? And Kate" He paused on the name, and felt Tim tense, "That's not how it happened Tim, you didn't know, and you couldn't have stopped it Ok? It wasn't your fault, it was just a dream, there was nothing you could have done... nothing anyone could have done... I'm staying Tim, just like I promised, just relax and go back to sleep. Just remember I'm here... I'll wake you if the nightmares start again... just relax" Tony knew McGee needed to calm down, the sobbing and shaking where probably only making his situation worse, and he hated seeing the man in that much pain. He gently began rocking Tim, careful to be slow and gentle, fearing the return of the nausea, but instead was rewarded with the quieting of Tim's sobs, his muscles relaxing as he once again snuggled closer to Tony, burying his face deep into Tony's chest, as Tony continued to stroke his hair and mutter words of comfort and reassurance.

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><p>Tim was so completely absorbed in his remembered terror and despair, and Tony so focused on comforting and soothing him that neither had noticed as the key had quietly turned in the lock, and Ducky, Palmer, Ziva and Gibbs had entered. Having been warned of Tim's headache and sensitivity to sound, they had been keeping as silent as possible. Alerted to the missing members' location by the soft words and crying coming from the bathroom they had headed in that direction.<p>

Ducky Gibbs and Ziva had sped quietly towards the bathroom, fearing from the sobs they could hear that Tim's condition was far worse than they had been thinking. Instead when they peered into the small room, they caught most of Tony's words that they could guess at what had happened, and some of what McGee had been terrorised by in his sleep. They stayed for a second, ready to step in and help Tony to soothe McGee, but instead watched in fascination and awe as Tony was quickly able to calm McGee, and as he took it in his stride as Tim curled closer, leaning even more fully into the hug. Gibbs, Ducky ad Ziva looked on proudly for a moment, slightly worried by the blood, and the smell of vomit before, by unspoken agreement they moved back and away from the door ushering Palmer away as well, giving the two men some momentary privacy before they went in to help. After all, there were some cases where a Doctor could not do half as much good as a brother.

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><p><strong>Hope you liked it. While reading back through this I realised I might write an accompanying one shot to show what Tony did to the FBI agent that dared to call McGee Probie, if you'd be interested to read that let me know and I'll try to oblige! Thank you everyone for all the wonderful reviews! The comments are all really helpful! To answer a question someone asked I don't know how many more chapters this is going to be, but at least two or three, I'm just posting as I write and making it up as I go along, I do have a vague idea of where it's going though! (so don't worry I can promise now that <strong>**no ****character will die in this fic, other than nightmare ones!)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, sorry there wasn't a chapter the last couple of days, but apparently homework comes before fanfics in the eyes of parents! Who knew? Anyway my updates may not be regular for this reason, but I'll try my best to update most days on the remaining few chapters for this fic. **

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way shape or form own the characters or plotlines of NCIS. I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement, and will return them to their rightful owners once my imagination is done running wild. Think of it like a library service.**

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><p>It was only a few minutes before the team decided Tony and McGee had had enough time. Ducky really did need to check on Tim, the pulled stitches and the possible infection were concerning him, and while he respected Tim's emotional needs right now, he also knew the medical concerns were important. He stood up, and Gibbs followed him to the bathroom, the two of them walking in, while Ziva and Palmer waited back by the door. Tony looked up as they walked in and smiled in relief.<p>

"Hey, Boss hey Ducky, Ziva, Palmer..." he paused in his whispered greeting for a moment, beginning to worry,"Abby's not with you is she?" Ducky adopted a similar hushed tone in his reply, mindful of the sleeping, injured man before him,

"No, Anthony, it is just us...while Abigail will not be pleased at being left behind once she finds out, I believe most of us understood the reasons for your request."

Tony grinned gratefully back at them, before a spark of mischief entered his worried eyes, "So does that mean you'll be willing to share responsibility for keeping her out of the loop?"

Palmer looked horrified at the idea, while Gibbs' lips simply quirked slightly, even as he studied his injured agent in concern. It was Ziva that answered his query,

"Absolutely not Tony. This is all on you; I even have the text message proving you asked for her to be kept away. This is your entire problem"

"I bet McGee could get rid of that for me" Tony smiled fondly as he looked down at the man, still pulled protectively against him. His words brought everyone's focus back to McGee, and Ducky stepped forwards to begin assessing him. He crouched down trying to get a good look at his condition; however, as he was still curled in close to Tony, Ducky only had access to his back. Although he knew some sleep would do McGee good, he really needed him awake so he could find out exactly how the symptoms had initially presented, and with a sigh he reached out in an attempt to wake the young man.

Seeing Ducky's dilemma and his intent, Tony quickly reached out and grabbed Ducky's wrist, stopping him from touching Tim. The others were confused at his reaction, and seeing this he let go, and offered Ducky an apologetic smile.

"Sorry Ducky, I know you need to wake him up, but do you mind if I do it? He's still sore from yesterday, and touching him in the wrong spot is really painful for him."

Smiling in understanding, Ducky gestured for Tony to go ahead, while Gibbs crouched next to the group as well. Tony gingerly touched the edge of McGee's shoulder squeezing it gently. "Sorry buddy, but Ducky needs you awake for this Probie" he whispered. Gradually Tim began to stir in Tony's arms, and he turned his face so it was no longer buried against Tony's stomach. This was the first glimpse the rest of the team had had of Tim's face, and the flushed skin soaked with sweat increased their worry. Tony however, was once again completely focused on Tim, who was slowly becoming more aware of his surroundings.

"T'ny?" he managed. Tony smiled at him, while he gently helped him twist his body so he was lying on his side, making sure Ducky could talk to him while still having access to his injured back. He kept Tim's head pillowed on his legs, and quickly retrieved the discarded washcloth, using it to wipe away the sweat once again.

"Yeah man, it's me, still here, Ducky's come to look you over, and he has a couple of questions Ok?" he continued to whisper. Tim nodded in assent, letting his gaze sweep over the rest of the room, smiling weakly at the other members of his team.

"Hey guys" he muttered.

"Hello Timothy" Ducky greeted, "How are you feeling?"

"Been better Ducky" he said with a small smile.

"Yes well it's a good thing Anthony found you and called me to take a look then." Tony grinned.

"Yeah well, my 'Probie sense' was fully functional" he winked at McGee who gave a small laugh, leaving the others with the impression they had missed something. Choosing to ignore whatever joke the two were sharing, Ducky attempted to begin his examination and questioning of McGee.

"I'm just going to check on your head wound, alright Timothy?" Tim nodded as Tony smiled at him encouragingly. Having his eyes closed at the moment, Tim did not see the small penlight being produced from Ducky's bag. He had grown used to the pain from the dim light of the bathroom, but when, upon opening his eyes, he was confronted with the much brighter glow, a sharp stabbing pain shot through his head, increasing the pain level tenfold. He groaned loudly, and jerked his head away. He did not hear Ducky's frantic apologies, or Gibbs' concern, focused only on the pain in his head, and the sudden return of the nausea as a result.

Recognising the grimace that was forming on Tim's face, as well as the deep breathing, Tony quickly gestured for Gibbs and Ducky to move, as he raised Tim up, and once again helped him into a kneeling position over the toilet. This time he was supporting all of Tim's weight, as he barely had the energy to grip the seat, let alone hold himself there. He whispered more soothing words to Tim, as the man heaved over the basin, bringing up bile as his almost empty stomach contracted.

"It's Ok Tim, It's Ok... just let it all out, just like last time... just breathe, it'll be over soon... that's it."

He gently lowered Tim back down once he was done, and Ducky moved forward once more, the remorse plain on his face. McGee forestalled him before he could once again attempt to apologise,

" 's not your fault Ducky" he murmured, as Tony sat beside him, stroking his hands through Tim's hair in an attempt to relax and reassure him. "You weren't to know... should have told you light hurt... just got used to it in here...forgot how much it hurt at first."

Ducky smiled slightly at him, and nodded in recognition of the apparent forgiveness.

"Very well Timothy, would you mind telling me what other symptoms you've experienced?"

Tim sighed but weakly nodded his head. He tried to think back and let Ducky know as much as possible.

"I woke up and my head hurt... a lot... I couldn't really think straight, or remember why everything hurt... It took me a while to think of things, like the fact I should probably take pain meds...When I sat up in bed I realised all the sheets were wet and figured I must have been sweating... though it was probably some blood as well. It also made me feel really ill to move, and I felt even more nauseous when I stood up. I went to the kitchen and got some pills from the cupboard."

The whole team was listening with sympathy to what their friend had been dealing with in the early hours of the morning. They found it hard to imagine the usually quick and intuitive mind had struggled to even think of such simple things, and that worried them greatly. Ducky on the other hand latched on to Tim's last comment.

"The pills you took, were they the ones I gave you yesterday?"

Tim thought for a moment, forcing his aching mind to think back through the morning. He shook his head,

"No, I got them out of the cupboard... I think the ones you gave me were on the side; I only took those last night when Tony was here."

"Do you know what time you took the other pills Timothy?"

Seeing where Ducky was going with this, Tim shook his pounding head again,

"I didn't overdose Ducky...even if it was too soon for me to take more meds it made no difference. The water I used to swallow the pills disagreed with my stomach, I brought them straight back up... barely made it in here, and been here ever since... I didn't have the energy to get back up."

Tony sighed in relief, the overdose scenario was way too close to his doom and gloom fantasies earlier.

Ducky nodded thoughtfully while Tim continued,

"I kept going in and out of sleep... noises hurt... and the light, when it first came in. Moving still made me feel kind of ill, but not as bad as time went on... It took me a while to remember what happened yesterday... It didn't click until I felt the scratches stinging and looked at them."

Gibbs' worry had been increasing throughout the talk and he turned to Ducky,

"He need a hospital Duck?" he queried quietly. Ducky shook his head.

"Not in my opinion. From the sounds of it the headache and nausea are slowly fading, so they are, most likely, reaction to the medication, as well as a side effect of the infection of the wounds. The confusion was probably due to a combination of the pain and fever. I just need to replace the torn stitches."

Gibbs and Tony both breathed sighs of relief. Tim's recount of his symptoms had worried them, but if he didn't need a hospital then that was a good sign.

Tony continued to stroke Tim's face with the cloth, and so noticed as his eyes began to flutter again.

"Hey Tim, can you stay awake a little longer man?...How about we get you up off this floor and into bed yeah?" he looked to Ducky for approval of this plan, and he nodded.

"It would be more comfortable, and he could go straight back to sleep as soon as Mr. Palmer and I have finished stitching him up, what do you say Timothy?"

Tim forced himself to be more awake, and focus on what he was being asked. Seeing the problem, Tony repeated the idea, and McGee nodded in relief, he had been lying here for hours, and now he had nothing more to bring up in his stomach, he saw no reason to remain in the bathroom.

Gibbs, however had noticed a problem with the plan, and turned to the door to look for Ziva, to request she and Palmer find some clean sheets for the bed. He was puzzled to see they were no longer there, and started to stand to go in search of them, when they reappeared. Palmer was following Ziva, and Gibbs smiled slightly as he saw the dirty sheets bundled in his arms.

"We found clean linen, but were unsure where to put the dirty ones McGee." Ziva whispered.

Tim nodded towards the hamper near the bath tub, and Palmer dumped the dirty sheets in it.

"Thanks guys" he mumbled. He was on the verge of sleep again, once again, beginning to move instinctively towards Tony as he did so. Gibbs and Ducky smiled at seeing this, while Tony gently reprimanded him.

"No sleep yet Tim remember? We need to get you into bed, and Ducky and Palmer need to check your stitches Ok?"

"S'ry T'ny " McGee slurred, blinking heavily as he attempted to stay awake.

Seeing he wasn't going to last much longer, Tony and Gibbs quickly, but gently helped McGee to stand, sharing his weight between them as they travelled to the bedroom. Gibbs paused when they got to the bed, and turned to ask Ducky how he wanted McGee placed to do this. However Tony anticipated his question, and gestured for Ziva to take his half of Tim's weight. Once he was sure she was holding him steady, well once she quietly but forcefully said,

"Stop being such a mother hen Tony! I may be a trained Mossad assassin, but I am not attempting to kill McGee! He will be perfectly safe with me! You on the other hand I cannot make any promises about!"

he quickly stepped away, while Gibbs, Ducky, and even Palmer gave barely concealed chuckles, and even the exhausted Tim cracked a slight smile.

Tony climbed onto the bed and sat so he was leaning against the headboard. The others gently laid McGee face down on the bed, but so that Tony was supporting his upper body, allowing Ducky and Palmer easy access to his back. He and Ducky helped rid McGee of his shirt, allowing Ducky to inspect the wounds.

"Well Timothy," he commented after a moment, "Only a few of these are torn, so this should only take 5 minutes alright?"

Tim nodded gratefully, his head leaning into Tony's chest. He winced as he felt Ducky begin, but was gently soothed by Tony rubbing his hand up and down his arm, and whispering words of comfort so quiet even the others had no idea what he was saying. It was all over relatively quickly, and soon Ducky was standing back. Tony rolled and shifted Tim so he was lying on his side, his head on the soft pillow.

"He gonna be Ok Duck?" Gibbs quietly answered. He saw Tony and Ziva intently listening to the answer as well, Tony moving closer to listen as he got off the bed.

"Just fine Jethro. If he rests today and tomorrow, and takes it easy over the weekend, he should be perfectly fine for desk duty on Monday and field work later in the week." He paused momentarily, "However, someone should definitely be staying with him."

Tim had been listening to the conversation sleepily, and they all turned to him after Ducky made this final suggestion. Not wanting to offend any of them, as he knew they would all be happy to stay, Tim remained silent, although his gaze did flick to Tony. It wasn't that he didn't want the others there, he trusted all of them implicitly, but Tony had, for a long time now, been the one he turned to first. When he had picked up the phone to call NCIS when Sarah appeared on his door step covered in blood, it had been Tony's number he started to dial.

Tony was having a similar reaction. He knew he wanted to stay with Tim, but he also knew that the others may want to take their turn, so stopped himself from blurting out the enthusiastic, "I'll do it!" that was trying to pass his lips.

Seeing the dilemma his two agents were having, and knowing Ziva was trying to think of a subtle way to give the job to Tony but not wanting McGee to take it wrongly, and think she did not also want to be there for him, Gibbs took it upon himself to solve the issue.

"Ducky and Palmer, we'll need you if we get a call out. Ziva and I can handle the office work, and DiNozzo can use McGee's computer to support us from here if we need it. You alright bunking here tonight DiNozzo?" Tony and McGee both smiled gratefully at Gibbs, Tony nodding enthusiastically in reply.

"Think I can survive a day or two here boss, I can show McGee all the movies he's missed out on... who knows, it may be such a long list I need to stay longer, can't have my Probie missing out on such a cultural experience!."

The others rolled their eyes at Tony's less than subtle way of saying he'd stay with Tim as long as needed, before turning to go, whispering short goodbyes as they did so.

Relaxed now that he knew Tony would be staying with him, Tim murmured short slurred replies to the farewells, before allowing his eyes to slip closed.

The peace he felt was only momentary, however, as the departing group had only made it out of the doorway of the bedroom when someone began pounding loudly and quickly on the front door.

Tim winced, groaned and screwed his eyes shut, as the noise seemed to slice through his skull, once again ramping up the pain level of the slowly dulling headache. Tony was by his side in an instant, as Ziva and Gibbs glared murderously at the door, as if they could silence whoever was on the other side simply by will power alone. They would have called out, but did not want to add to Tim's problem with their raised voices, and so instead moved quickly to the door to discover the identity of the visitor. They had only made it a few steps when the question as to the who, was answered by a loud call from the other side,

"Open up guys, I know you're in there! McGee, open the door! Come on! " Gibbs and Ziva paused momentarily and glanced at each other, recognising Abby's voice clearly. They sped up again when she resumed the frantic knocking that was causing Tim so much pain.

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><p><strong>Ok guys hope you liked the chapter! Sorry for any Abby lovers, but you may want to skip the next chapter! I've been really annoyed with Abby's character for a while, mostly because of her treatment of McGee, and though I was once a McAbby shipper, I have sort of gone off the idea because ... well...she annoys me! In the next chapter the other members of the team will get quite annoyed with her, so ignore the next update if that isn't for you! I will not be bashing her in all of my stories, (just this one out of the few I have planned), but she probably will only play a minor role in most of them, and there definitely won't be a McAbby pairing until I've worked out those issues! She and McGee will just be friends. Sorry if that disappoints anyone.<strong>

**I have also started jotting down notes for the oneshot I mentioned last time and so that should be up soon for those of you that were interested!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey, so once again do not read if you are an Abby lover! I attack her behaviour in one episode especially here, so there will be detailed spoilers!**

**Sorry for abandoning you for so long, but like I said before, teachers are unpredictable in homework loads. I have written the first chapter of a "M" rated McNozzo fic, as well as started writing the story of Tony's revenge on the FBI agent, which is probably going to be much longer than a simple one shot. I am also about to start writing a lower rated McNozzo, that I actually came up with while writing a chapter of this story (it will be obvious which one) so if you're interested in reading any of those they'll be up soon.**

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way shape or form own the characters or plotlines of NCIS. I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement, and will return them to their rightful owners once my imagination is done running wild. Think of it like a library service.**

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><p>"Open up guys, I know you're in there! McGee, open the door! Come on! "<p>

As well as the pounding on the door, Abby's shout had also managed to reach into the bedroom. Ducky and Palmer exchanged a worried glance. Tony on the other hand was entirely focused on McGee, as he had been for most of the morning. He was worried about his friend, and coming dangerously close to being angry at Abby. Even if she was unaware she was causing this, her knocking seemed to be causing Tim agony. Tony had quickly sat back on the bed, and Tim had automatically curled up next to him, his head resting pressed next to Tony's thigh. He wasn't responding to anything Tony was saying to him, merely letting out groans, and pitiful whimpers, and Tony's heart almost broke as he saw tears working their way out from under Tim's tightly scrunched up eyelids, when the pounding on the door resumed.

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><p>Timothy McGee had been relieved when he had closed his eyes, Tony would be here keeping watch over him, and so he could sleep in peace. Give in to the weariness that had been slowly overtaking his entire body. He had tried to hide how much his head still hurt after Ducky had waved the light into his eyes, he didn't want him to feel guilty. He had soon managed to get the tidal wave of pain under control, and it had slowly dulled down. However the headache was still more potent than it had been in hours, and he had struggled to focus and hold it in. The effort had exhausted him, and he welcomed sleep when it seemed to be coming his way, hoping that the rest would give the pain a chance to fade, or even better die out completely.<p>

He had, however, had his eyes closed for mere seconds when a loud thumping had sliced through his skull, building the crescendo of pain back into full force. In his weakened state he couldn't focus on anything but the pain. He was distantly aware of a comforting presence nearby, and had some recollection of trying to get closer... maybe whatever it was could help...he thought that the person he sensed helped him when he was hurt. Other than that all other thoughts were... hard...exhausting...impossible. He couldn't think past the pain.

He was distantly aware of voices...talking to him? But he couldn't focus on them, didn't have the energy to try to figure out what it was they wanted. There was a soothing murmur right near his ear and it relaxed him slightly, even if he couldn't make sense of the words...he felt better just listening to the voice...he associated it with comfort and ...safety. The pounding had stopped and he almost began to relax...and then it began again, pushing and pounding its way through his skull... and the pain. In his world at this moment there was nothing but the pain.

He breathed deeply, attempting to control it...but it wasn't working. He was frustrated...what could he do? He knew that if he focused, the pain wouldn't be this bad...it was just because he allowed his brain to concentrate on the pain that it was so intense... but the pain blocked his ability to think of anything else... he was trapped. He thought he heard himself groan again, and then he heard it... the murmur was still there, hushed and gentle. There were other background sounds, but he concentrated on that... forced his brain to push the pain back and attempt to decipher the words. He felt a gentle, tentative touch against his back as he began to relax, and although there was a slight sting, it was soft and relatively painless.

The contact was reassuring, and helped to ground him. He felt himself relax more and more, the pain dulling and beginning to ebb, as he forced it away from the front of his mind. He became more aware of the outside world again, and was relieved to find the pounding noise was gone...replaced by a loud, animated voice. The sound was still painful... but not the same pounding agony as before. He tried to focus on the soft whispers he now recognised as Tony's voice, attempting to comfort him. He slowly found himself relaxing again, curling into Tony, who he felt sigh in relief, and move his other hand so it stroked through his hair.

"You back with me Tim?" He made a small noise in response, which he hoped sounded like agreement, and was about to attempt talking, when he heard Abby's voice moving closer and closer to the door to his room.

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><p>Tony felt relieved as Tim gradually relaxed against him, curling himself inwards so his head was using Tony's thigh as a pillow, most of his chest pressed against him as well. It could only have been a minute, but having Tim so oblivious to his words, and in such obvious pain, had made it feel like hours. He gently moved to stroke his hand through Tim's hair again, keeping the other resting gently on his back. He was momentarily afraid that touching Tim's head may be worse for him rather than comforting, but continued as he seemed to calm even further under his touch.<p>

"You back with me Tim?" he asked hesitantly, he was pretty sure of the answer, but still felt some of the tension building up inside him dissipate as he heard a small grunt which sounded like an affirmative. He was about to keep talking, to see if he could get a further response, when he felt Tim tense, and heard Abby's voice moving closer towards the room. His senses were not dulled like Tim's currently were, and he could hear the hushed attempts of Ziva and Gibbs to gain her attention. He cringed when he heard how little impact they seemed to be having, and could tell even at the decreased volume, that Ziva was becoming impatient. He was not looking forward to this. He glanced down at Tim, and hoped the two women managed to keep their confrontation quiet... or that Abby would quiet down period.

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><p>Ziva and Gibbs reached the door at about the same time, but she grabbed the handle first. Like Tony Ziva considered McGee to be family. They lived close to each other, and although Tony was the one he went to when he was in trouble, he still sought her out for her company, and she had fond recollections of many afternoons they had spent together.<p>

Tim had truly been a friend and brother to her, and so the small glimpse she had gotten of him before striding to the door, had been enough to start a slowly building pool of anger inside her. Abby's fist was still raised to continue the pounding when Ziva yanked the door open.

"Finally! What took you so long? I've been worried sick! I came up to give you evidence in one of those cold cases..." Her voice was loud, echoing around the apartment.

"Abby!" Ziva and Gibbs whispered urgently, desperately trying to get her attention in low voices. Glancing across at Ziva Gibbs could see the woman's level of frustration rising, and internally winced as he anticipated the inevitable confrontation.

"...you weren't there! I asked everyone, and they said you'd all gone out, and I checked but there was no new case. Someone said they'd heard you talking about McGee, and I checked your cell GPS and you were all here, I knew something was wrong! Gibbs what's wrong with McGee! Is he Ok? I need to see him!"

Gibbs could see Abby going into the panic mode that was always the result of someone on the team getting hurt, and could see that Ziva was becoming increasingly annoyed by it, her fists clenching at her sides, as she moved to block Abby's path to the bedroom. Abby simply ignored her and hurriedly whirled past, bursting into the bedroom. Not taking the time to look closely, she simply saw McGee curled up on the bed, Ducky's medical bag close by and began a whole new out loud panic process, continuing with the high volume,

"Oh my God, McGee! What's wrong Ducky is he Ok? Of course he's Ok, McGee never gets hurt, well apart from yesterday, but he can't have got hurt again since then right? He's the least injured person on the team! It can't then happen two days in a row..."

Abby trailed off as a pained whimper finally broke through her spoken thought process. She looked down at the bed again, and saw Tim had curled into Tony, raising his head onto Tony's lap and pressing his face against his chest. Tony was running his hands through McGee's hair, murmuring indistinguishable words to him, holding him close, as if he was protecting him... what was the danger, and how hurt was he?

"McGee?" she whispered. She reached forward to touch him after he didn't seem to hear her, but stopped when she felt a hand tightly grip her wrist. She raised her eyes to look into Ziva's and saw the fiery anger that was burning there.

"Out now!" Ziva growled quietly through clenched teeth.

"But McGee..." she began to protest.

"Is in pain because of you! You were too wrapped up in your own needs to see others were attempting to warn you of the damage you were causing! Get. Out. Now."

When Abby still hesitated, glancing towards McGee and Tony, both of whom seemed to be either unaware of or ignoring her presence, Ziva used her grip on her wrist to drag her towards the door. Abby glanced pleadingly at Gibbs, if McGee was hurt she needed to be there. He simply followed them out of the room, closing the door behind them.

* * *

><p>Tony breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the door shut. Looking up, he saw that Gibbs and Ziva, as well as Abby, had left the room. He was torn between wanting to stay with Tim, and wanting to go and ensure Abby would cause him no further pain.<p>

Tim was almost completely relaxed against him now. He had felt his muscles lose their tension as soon as Abby had stopped with her loud spoken panic attack. However McGee was still curled in close to him, and he couldn't see his face.

"Tim?" he asked hesitantly. He watched McGee shift on his lap, turning his face outwards slightly.

" 'm tired Tony" he whispered. Tony smiled slightly, the anger at Abby's actions pushed aside momentarily.

"Go to sleep then Tim," he glanced upward, looking towards the door, deciding, "I'm gonna go into the other room for a sec Ok? But I'll be back, I won't leave alright? And Ducky will be here with you" he received a short nod from Ducky in agreement. Tim seemed to hesitate for a moment.

"You're not leaving?"

"No Tim, I'll be in the other room for a couple of minutes and then I'll be right back."

Tim shifted off of his lap, and rolled onto a pillow, nodding sleepily. Tony smiled fondly as he carefully pulled the duvet from the end of the bed, and covered the already sleeping man with it. He shot a quick look at Ducky, silently asking him to take care of his little brother while he was gone, before he quickly made his way towards the door.

* * *

><p>Three faces looked at him as he stepped out. Abby was sitting on the couch, Gibbs in the armchair, and Ziva was standing over Abby, placing herself between the woman and the bedroom.<p>

"How is McGee Tony?" Ziva asked, not moving from her position.

"He's sleeping now... Ducky's watching him." Ziva nodded tightly, before she turned back to face Abby again.

"Did I... Did I really hurt him?" Abby whispered.

Tony moved past Ziva and sat down next to her. She looked up at him, tearfully, but he was determined not to break it gently to her, she needed to know the full impact of what she'd done.

"Yes Abby, you did. He's got a killer headache, anything above a whisper caused him pain, so your knocking and your little monologue..." he waited until she looked at him again "That would have been absolute agony for him." Her eyes widened.

"I'm so sorry I didn't mean to!" she looked around at them. "I should have listened to you... I should have learned that in Mexico, but again Tim got in trouble when I didn't listen! What kind of fiend am I?" she looked down again while the other three occupants of the room looked around at each other confused.

Tony had a bad feeling about this story, so did the other two with him. McGee was always evasive when they questioned him about his and Abby's trip. They had known the two fought, and thought his reluctance to talk was because of that, but it seemed there was another element to the story they had missed out on.

Taking the initiative, Gibbs asked coldly, "What happened in Mexico Abby?" She looked up at him, the tears building up again.

"It was... it was how we got the shell casing." The team looked at each other. They had never really put much thought into how Abby had got that piece of evidence, and it seemed that over sight was a pretty big one if her reluctance was anything to go by.

"What happened Abby?" Tony repeated Gibbs' question.

"I... I told him I wanted to do a class field trip... take them to the crime scene... and McGee said no... we had been warned about how dangerous it was outside of the hotel... he said as it was his duty to protect me he was telling me I couldn't do this."

The three team members nodded in approval of their team mate's decision, but this only seemed to distress Abby more... that's when it clicked for them. Ziva voiced the realisation, her voice cold and seething with anger,

"You didn't listen did you?" Abby shook her head,

"I...I told him fine, and he seemed to relax... and then I said I'd go without him... he didn't have to come. He tried to persuade me, order me, reason with me... I just told him he was being ridiculous, and I would go with or without him."

The team listened in horror, their anger mounting, they had a bad feeling about what was coming, and listened warily as she continued,

"Even... even though he didn't want to he came along... said it was his duty to protect me so there was no way he was letting me go alone...let all the people in my class go without someone to protect them... I felt proud Gibbs, I felt proud that I had beaten him... got my way."

Tony couldn't hold in his fury at how she had treated McGee any longer, and in a quiet, but deadly angry tone voiced his opinion,

"He's a trained agent Abby! He was telling you it was too dangerous! He knows about this stuff!... and he was right, wasn't he?" She nodded again,

"We... we had only been there a few minutes... this truck came speeding up... these men and a woman got out. The men had massive guns... they told the students to line up..."

The team listened in growing horror, imagining what the possible outcome of this could have been... and how the two had escaped that fate.

"I was... I was stupid... I told them I was a guest of the government... I thought that would make them stop... Tim tried to make me stop talking... but I told her why I was there and everything... I thought it had worked for a moment... she said she wouldn't kill us then... just take me hostage... Tim...Tim saved me."

"How?" Tony blurted out, he could see Gibbs and Ziva thinking the same thing. They knew McGee was a capable agent, but it seemed virtually impossible that he could have got them out of that.

"I could tell he was scared... but he offered anyway... after what I'd done he still offered.."

"What did he offer?" Ziva's voice was barely controlled as she asked the question.

"He... He took out his badge... tossed it to the woman... he told her his name was Timothy McGee...that he was an American agent... that he would be worth a lot to the government... that she could have him as a hostage if me and the class were left alone..."

The three agents in the room were torn. They were fiercely proud of their friend for displaying such an act of bravery, but at the same time were furious he had been placed in such an easily avoidable situation. Suddenly something occurred to Tony,

"She didn't right... Abby please tell me she didn't take him."

He saw the other two members of his team tense as they waited for the answer, horrified by the realisation their team member could have experienced some horrific ordeal and they never knew. They all visibly relaxed when Abby vigorously shook her head.

"No, she... she tossed his badge back... Told him he was a brave man... asked if he knew who she was... she told us her name was... Reynosa." She said the last part so quietly they almost didn't hear. Gibbs was the first to react seething,

"He was almost taken by Reynosa?" Abby nodded again,

"Instead... she gave me the casing... told me to solve the murder... I think... I think Tim impressed her ... it wasn't until after he had offered to go that she gave it to us..."

"Do you have any idea what could have happened Abby!" Ziva exclaimed, sounding impressively dangerous at such a low volume.

"You almost hand delivered one of Gibbs' agents right to a woman determined to make him suffer! A woman without mercy!... You should be thankful McGee did not tell me this before now!"

Gibbs latched onto Abby's reaction to the word "thankful", as did Tony.

"You didn't thank him did you?" Tony asked quietly. Abby sadly shook her head, and even though they thought it was impossible they felt their anger increase.

"I did something a lot worse... We... We were in the hotel room after... He made a joke... I guess he was trying to show things were normal...tried to show me he forgave me... didn't blame me. I... I got annoyed at the joke... took my stuff and told him I wouldn't sleep in the same room... and he... he tried to apologise to me... but I still left. He tried to apologise for a stupid joke... and I never apologised."

Tony saw red at this point. His little brother had offered himself to drug lords to protect this woman, even though he had warned her not to go, and then had forgiven her without her apologising... she got angry at a _joke_ he made?

Not trusting himself to speak Tony got up and walked out of the room, returning to the bedroom, needing the reassurance of seeing Tim alive and... reasonably well ... after the story he had just heard.

Abby continued to look down at the floor, unsure of what she should do, when Ziva answered that question for her.

"I think you should leave."

Abby looked up at her, "But..." seeing the unrelenting posture Ziva was holding and Gibbs not making any objection, Abby nodded and stood up.

"Can... can you guys forgive me?"

Ziva nodded curtly, "It will take time... but yes... not for you, but for McGee... he was willing to sacrifice his life to keep you with us. I will _not_ belittle that sacrifice by allowing it to be the cause of driving you away."

Gibbs nodded in agreement with Ziva, and Abby quietly, but quickly left.

* * *

><p>Tony nodded to Palmer and Ducky as he entered Tim's bedroom. Most of his attention however was immediately focused on his little brother... the little brother he could so easily have lost, and who had never asked for any recognition for his bravery that day, or even for what he did yesterday, saving Palmer. He felt an overwhelming sense of pride in Tim, in his belief in doing what was right without expecting anything for it. In many ways Tim was a lot like Gibbs.<p>

He heard the other two men leave the room, but didn't turn round, eyes still focused on the sleeping man. He frowned as McGee started to toss restlessly, and moved to his side in a flash as he heard him mumble the name, "Kate" knowing the nightmare from earlier was returning. He quickly climbed onto the bed, once again resting his hand on Tim's back, stroking the other one through his hair. Tim visibly relaxed beneath his touch, and a small smile replaced the tension on his face.

As he watched Tim sleep, he thought through everything he had just been told. He knew he would forgive Abby, she meant a lot to him, and to Tim. He knew, however that she would need to change her attitude towards McGee. He was supposed to be her friend, and besides which he was an accomplished agent, she should respect his judgement, and not just laugh him off. He knew in the beginning he had often questioned the Probie on his team, but he had soon come to realise that McGee had good instincts, and when he stood up passionately for his idea, it was usually right, or at least along the right lines. Abby didn't seem to have come to that realisation.

* * *

><p><strong>I loved how brave Tim was in borderland, and was really annoyed he never got the recognition he deserved in that episode. As far as I remember the team was never told about what happened on screen, but if they were just take this chapter as being slightly non-canon. Next one's the last one. But there might be a small epilogue after that.<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey so this is the last proper chapter. I think I may take a wonderful piece of advice I was given, and write an alternate story to borderland where Tim is actually taken by Reynosa, but I'm currently working on a couple of other fics so that may not be for a while. **

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way shape or form own the characters or plotlines of NCIS. I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement, and will return them to their rightful owners once my imagination is done running wild. Think of it like a library service.**

* * *

><p>McGee's sleep was peaceful after that. He slept soundly and deeply, no tossing turning and mumbling and as far as Tony was aware the nightmares stayed away. He did tense every time Tim shifted in his sleep, and stroked his hair almost constantly; to make sure he knew he wasn't alone.<p>

Any time he did move, he almost immediately settled back down again, snuggling closer into the blankets, or, more often, into Tony's side. Tony felt the now familiar warmth fill him every time this happened, seeing such evidence of Tim's unwavering trust in him, present while he wasn't even thinking about it.

A high point was when, as he was stroking Tim's hair, he felt the heat, which had previously been rolling off him, reduce gradually. At first he thought he was imagining things, or just becoming more accustomed to the temperature, but as it got to about mid afternoon, Tim's fever broke, and his body cooled so that his skin felt almost the same as Tony's.

Tim, however, was oblivious to this turning point, the restful sleep continuing without interruption. Although Tony was glad, it gave him far too much time to think. To imagine what could have happened if Reynosa had decided to change her master plan, and taken Tim that day. Every time he pictured a new scenario in his head, his grip on McGee unconsciously tightened, or he would pull him closer into him, needing to feel he warmth and weight of his body to chase away the sickening images.

* * *

><p>It was a few hours later, when McGee started to stir next to Tony. He had long since rung Ducky with the news of Tim's fever breaking, having a hushed conversation so as not to wake Tim, and he had been assured that Tim would be feeling much better when he woke up. That was good because Tony had a plan.<p>

"Hey, McSleepyhead!" he greeted quietly as Tim opened his eyes, blinking blearily.

"How's the head feeling?" he questioned.

"Good, headaches pretty much gone." Tim rolled over stretching.

"Reckon you could manage some food and drink?" Tony questioned.

Ducky had told him Tim's condition could worsen if he didn't replace the fluids he had lost already, both from all the sweat and from the vomiting. The last thing Tim needed right now was to become severely dehydrated, this was where Tony's plan came in.

Tim thought about it before nodding warily,

"My stomach feels pretty normal... I think I might even be slightly hungry" he commented after a moment, moving to get up. Tony quickly stopped him, pushing him back down.

"And where do you think you're going Probie?" Tim looked at him confused.

"Ummm... to get some food... and drink?" Tony grinned at him,

"All covered McRavenous!" he reached down beside him and pulled up some crackers and dry biscuits he had found in the cupboard, along with a bottle of water, grinning goofily at Tim.

"Fine recovery dining a la DiNozzo!"

Tim smiled gratefully at him, tentatively taking a small bite of a cracker, and a small sip of water. Tony smiled with relief when the grimace that signalled a bout of nausea failed to appear, and Tim continued to slowly eat and drink.

He waited for him to finish before he blurted out a question that had been circling round in his mind while he had had all that thinking time,

"Why did you never tell us about Mexico McGee?" he saw a surprised look cross Tim's face,

"Abby told you?"

"Yeah, she did... she was here earlier..." he hedged gently, knowing Tim remembered when he saw the wince pass across his face,

"Right... so that was her pounding on the door then huh?"

"Yep... not her finest hour... kind of like Mexico" Tim nodded, and Tony waited patiently as he saw the thoughtful look on his face.

"I guess... I didn't really know how to bring it up you know? I mean how do just drop that into conversation? Besides, we were in the middle of a case, and Abby seemed to want to forget the entire thing ever happened. I was going to tell you... but then we found out Reynosa was going after Gibbs... he felt so guilty that she could use people close to him as bait and..." Tim trailed off but Tony understood,

"And you didn't think he needed to know how close she had come to killing you and Abby already." Tim winced again,

"Yeah... how mad is he?" Tony thought about it for a second,

"He's not mad at you... none of us are, she told us how you warned her against it, and from the sounds of things you did everything right McGee... I think he was actually quite proud." Tim grinned slightly at that, but he still picked up on what Tony wasn't saying.

"How mad are you guys at Abby?" Tony winced.

"We weren't too impressed... but I think everyone's gonna forgive her eventually... I mean Ziva didn't kill her, maim her, or even grab any form of stationary,- even though her hand may have twitched towards the stapler at one point- so that's always a positive sign!"

Tim laughed slightly, and Tony was glad, however he needed to be serious for another minute.

"McGee...Tim" Tim turned to look at him, hearing the serious tone,

"Promise me you'll tell me next time Ok?"

"Don't plan on there being a next time... but if there is... I'll tell you Tony."

Tony sighed in relief. There was silence for a few moments before Tim broke it,

"You were right you know"

Tony grinned,

"Of course I was I'm Very special agent Tony DiNozzo! Being right is my speciality... just what about this time?"

Tim grinned back at him,

"You do make a surprisingly comfortable pillow."

Tony smiled widely,

"See, you should believe me more often McMovieNight!" Tim's grin was replaced by a thoughtful expression, before he gave an exaggerated sigh, as if giving in. Tony frowned wondering what was wrong. Tim had seemed fine a moment ago, maybe slightly tired and weak but...

"What movies have you picked Tony?" Tony glanced at McGee and saw the slight smile that was turning up the corners of his mouth.

"You assume I simply picked the movies! How dare you McGee!" he gasped in mock outrage, "What would make you think I'd do a thing like that?" Tim shrugged, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at the skin on his back,

"I'm an investigator Tony, I look at the evidence."

"What evidence?"

"I seem to recall something about a list of movies I need to see... that and the fact at all of the movie nights we've had, I'm pretty sure 99% of the time you've picked them."

"Nah uh... there was... that one time last year where we ended up watching some sci-fi thing you chose." Tim laughed weakly as he lay back down against the pillows, still feeling tired and weak, but enjoying engaging in the usual banter.

"Yeah Tony, I picked the movie I watched, while you were passed out on pain meds next to me... I think you watched it for a total of 5 minutes."

"That still counts!" Tim shook his head,

"Whatever you say Tony... so what movies have you picked?" Tony grinned at him, glad Tim was obviously doing so much better... and picked up a stack of DVD cases from the floor,

"You're gonna love them McGee trust me!" Tim simply rolled his eyes and leaned further back into the pillows.

* * *

><p>It wasn't long before McGee crashed, his body exhausted from the toll of fighting off the infection. Tony silently switched off the movie, and tucked the covers back round McGee, making sure he was comfortable. He lay down on the bed next to him, pulling up the comforter to use for himself, silently ignoring the part of his brain that was telling him this was exactly what Ziva was talking about with the "mother hen routine". Besides, there was no way he was a mother hen! He was definitely more of a... brother hen? Oh man, his reputation as a shallow jock was completely ruined. He glanced over at Tim again, taking in the scratches on his arms, the only exposed skin he could see.<p>

He thought back, remembering the horror he had felt watching his friend slip over the edge, the terror that had gripped him realising how close McGee had come to dying in Mexico. He yawned as the effort and worry of the day finally caught up to him. Caring this much was exhausting.

But then he remembered all the movie nights they had had, they joy he felt knowing that Tim went to him for help over anyone else. He recalled the glow of pride that had filled him as Tim unconsciously cuddled closer to him for security, trusting him to protect him from the nightmares. He smiled fondly at his little brother. So what if he would now keep a hawk eye on Tim around any drop bigger than a couple of feet? If he had _very minor_ panic attacks about killer shredders and brain melting? He wouldn't trade it for anything. Besides... the shallow, cocky jock reputation was way over rated... this big brother thing was so much better.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey just a short epilogue to finish it off!**

* * *

><p>Tony was once again<em> not<em> worried. Just Because McGee was not in yet when he was supposed to be back to work did _not_ mean disaster. Just because it _had_ last week...

Ziva was looking at him in amusement again, almost laughing every time he twitched and sighed when the elevator opened... and still McGee failed to appear.

Ziva's amusement lasted for five more minutes, before she too looked concerned, and joined Tony in his unofficial stake out, perching on the edge of his desk and frowning at the doors.

"He was coming in today, yes?"

Tony nodded,

"He was feeling loads better...Ducky came round yesterday, gave him the all clear, and just said he should wrap up warm so his body wouldn't have to deal with the flu so soon after..."

He trailed off and Ziva nodded thoughtfully,

"There could be traffic?"

"Yeah maybe..."

They sat there in silence, for a few minutes... and both released simultaneous sighs of relief when Tim finally walked in.

Covering up what he was now terming his "brother henning" (he had come to terms with the death of his tough guy act but he wasn't _that_ far gone) Tony resorted to teasing McGee,

"Late on the first day back, bad Probie!"

Tim rolled his eyes and sat down at his desk shrugging off his coat, causing Tony to look more closely and frown.

"Disobeying doctor's orders McGee?" Tim patted his coat and frowned,

"I wore a coat Tony."

"But wrapping up warm generally means hat, gloves, scarf... you're an author, shouldn't you know the sub text of language?" Inside he was worried, what if Tim got sick again?

He found his curiosity aroused when Tim began to blush,

"I did have a scarf Tony... I just had an... incident with the shredder as I leaned over to pick up my phone... It got caught and dragged in... Had to use my knife to cut it off my neck, it was pulled in too far to undo or slip over my head"

Tony was frozen, staring wide eyed at him, and Tim frowned for a moment before nodding in understanding,

"You're trying to figure out what movie to compare this to right? So what have you come up with so far?"

Tony quickly shut his mouth and continued on in the expected way,

"There are just so many McProbester! I have no idea which to choose!" he quickly ducked his head, avoiding looking at his team mates, muttering under his breath,

"...knew I should've shot that thing!"

* * *

><p><strong>Yay it's done!...Now I'm off to work on the next one. Hope you enjoyed it and thank you to everyone who reviewed and stuck with this <strong>


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